


Barlyle Prompts & One-Shots

by BuddysImpala



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: 60 Barlyle Prompts, Angst, BoyxBoy, Circus, Dark, Drabbles, Fluffy, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tumblr, barlyle - Freeform, bisexual circus dads, most of my work is dark or contains dark elements so be warned, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:32:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 23,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14004186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddysImpala/pseuds/BuddysImpala
Summary: —Each chapter is different—SEVERAL, if not all, of them are based on my Tumblr post: 60 Barlyle Prompts—if a chapter is mature, it will be marked. Other content warnings may apply.





	1. 60 Barlyle Prompts

Am the original creator. Also posted to my Tumblr: @barlyletrash

1\. "Please don't leave me."

2\. "Guess what I got!"

3\. "Why would you hide something like this from me?"

4\. "He's missing."

5\. "I still think about them. Every day."

6\. "You hurt me. And I don't think I can ever forgive that."

7\. "Did you...set your pants on fire?"

8\. "Ugh, can I open my eyes now?"

9\. "Don't you love me anymore?"

10\. "You're the ringmaster. Act like it."

11\. "But I lo—you know what? Forget it."

12\. "I saw you with her."

13\. "I'm fine."

14\. "I don't know if I can keep going without you."

15\. "I missed you. Where did you go?"

16\. "We absolutely do not need more elephants."

17\. "You know I can't swim."

18\. "Will you catch me if I fall?"

19\. "God, you're such a drama queen."

20\. "You saved me from myself."

21\. "Help me."

22\. "But what if I fail?"

23\. "Did you steal my {coat/hat}?"

24\. "Please don't shut me out."

25\. "That is, without a doubt, the worst idea I've ever heard."

26\. "Lie with me. Please?"

27\. "God, you're such a whore."

28\. "Why did you come back?"

29\. "Sometimes I see no point in living."

30\. "It's raining. What do we do now?"

31\. "I didn't want you to find out this way."

32\. "You don't talk about them much. Your parents."

33\. "You don't know what it's like to lose a child."

34\. "You're much too drunk to think clearly."

35\. "Because I care about you."

36\. "We can't, not here. They'll see us."

37\. "You saved my life / Thank you for saving my life."

38\. "I can defend myself."

39\. "I'm sorry. (For everything)."

40\. "Sorry, I - I thought you were Lettie."

41\. "You're so cute when you're mad."

42\. "How's the weather up there?"

43\. "You know, most couples who bathe together don't actually bathe."

44\. "Are you trying to kill us?"

45\. "Are you trying to hit on me?" OR "That is the worst pickup line I've ever heard."

46\. "Nice job, asshole."

47\. "Personally, I prefer Dr. Seuss over Shakespeare."

48\. "We're a circus full of freaks. So why do I feel so alone?"

49\. "Suck my dick." "That can be arranged."

50\. "I didn't take you as the quiet type."

51\. "When you're out there, your eyes light up. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

52\. "I don't know why you put up with me."

53\. "I hate it when you cry."

54\. "I'm sick, not dying."

55\. "I can't keep pretending I don't love you."

56\. "You're acting like I don't exist."

57\. "I thought you loved me. Clearly, I was wrong."

58\. "Can we get a {puppy/kitten}?"

59\. "You're the only person I know who cries during sex."

60\. "This {isn't/can't be} the end."

 

 


	2. 60 (More!) Barlyle Prompts

So, remember back in March when I managed to think up 60 different dialogue prompts?

Well, here’s 60 more!

They don’t have to be Barlyle, but were created with Barlyle in mind. Some of them center around winter and the holidays and, because I celebrate Christmas, some of them, as a result, directly mention Christmas. However, I am totally okay if you choose to alter a prompt to adapt to a different holiday! :)

And so, without further ado...

—- ****

  1. “Cold? Here, let me help you warm up.”
  2. “What’s that you’re writing?”
  3. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not much.”
  4. “Get in here before you freeze!”
  5. “No! No – you can’t do this to me!”
  6. “Well, maybe I should have.”
  7. “Hmm, I think you’d look quite lovely in a wedding dress.”
  8. “You look absolutely irresistible done up like that.”
  9. “Do you realize how loudly you snore?”
  10. “You have... the most striking eyes I’ve ever seen.”
  11. “Oh, lighten up a little. It’s Christmas!”
  12. “How about I wrap you up and put you under my Christmas tree? [You could wear a bow... and nothing else.]”
  13. “It didn’t hurt too much, did it?”
  14. “You have no idea how much I love you.”
  15. “Anne is going to kill us.”
  16. “That is no way to light a proper fire.”
  17. “It nearly killed me... when you left.”
  18. “Well, who’s it going to be? Me or her?”
  19. “You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite.”
  20. “Clearly you can’t be trusted.”
  21. “I’m not going to be the one that gets in the way of your dreams.”
  22. “He’s your father. I know you’re upset, even if you won’t show it.”
  23. “I never really celebrated Christmas as a kid.”
  24. “Is this another one of your so-called ‘brilliant’ ideas?”
  25. “You know I hate the snow.”
  26. “It’s much too cold for this.”
  27. “You have no idea what it was like to live on the streets.”
  28. “I am... slightly terrified.”
  29. “Is this a... secret journal?”
  30. “Unicorns may not be real, but dragons are.”
  31. “Caroline and Helen love you. You know that.”
  32. “It’s okay to cry.”
  33. “I have some bad news...”
  34. “You know, some say direct contact is the best way to conserve body heat.”
  35. “You’ve never been ice-skating?”
  36. “Charity’s found out about us...”
  37. “You mean the world to me.”
  38. “Your nose is so red, you look like Rudolph.”
  39. “How could you not like gingerbread?”
  40. “How am I going to survive this Christmas party?”
  41. “You’ve... never said you loved me before.”
  42. “Is that a... Santa suit?”
  43. “You’re freezing, you poor thing.”
  44. “I may be an idiot, but I’m your idiot.”
  45. “Why on Earth are you wearing Anne’s wig?”
  46. “Clearly you have a flair for show business.”
  47. “Oh, just kiss me already.”
  48. “I’m... sorry. I’ve never known how to... open up.”
  49. “I’m hardly perfect.”
  50. “How did this become my life?”
  51. “Is your top hat... moving?”
  52. “Don’t I mean anything to you?”
  53. “I don’t think we’re much of a secret anymore.”
  54. “You could always put Charles on top of the Christmas tree.”
  55. “I can’t believe I messed this up. I miss him. I want him back.”
  56. “Forget it. Just forget it. Christmas is ruined.”
  57. “How long have you been keeping secrets?”
  58. “I... can’t believe you’d lie to me.”
  59. “Stop it! Just stop it!”
  60. “It’s... my first Christmas without him.”




	3. Set Fire Upon Your Skin

Prompt 7 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Did you...set your pants on fire?"

Title: Set Fire Upon Your Skin

**Warning: Barnum gets burned. Literally.**

\---

Phillip leapt to his feet when he heard the loud, startled scream come from inside the circus tent. Kicking up dirt underneath his feet, he ran into the tent.

"What happened?!" Phillip shouted, voice drowning in the commotion. He pushed past curious, concerned workers, Lettie's worried face flashing briefly by him, as he made his way to the front of the crowd.

His jaw dropped.

Phineas T. Barnum, their ringmaster, was soaked from the waist down. Two people stood beside him, one holding an empty bucket, equal looks of bewilderment struck on their faces. Phillip only looked at them briefly before his eyes flicked back to Barnum, who winced and was holding a hand to his thigh.

"Barnum, wha—"

"His pants were on fire!" someone hollered. Now that the immediate danger was gone, the tent erupted in loud, enormous laughter. Barnum was breathing heavily, his face bright red, but hadn't said a word. Phillip's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"Barnum, did you...set your pants on fire?" Phillip could hardly choke out the words, unsure of whether he should laugh or cry.

The ringmaster's face seemed to redden even more, if at all possible. "It hurts," he rasped once finally able to find his voice.

The burns.

"Of course!" Phillip fumbled, embarrassed now that he'd lacked to actually help the man. The laughter had quieted down some, but chuckles still made their way around the tent as he glanced over his shoulder. "You all leave or...go find me some more water, and someone get Barnum some bandages and a new pair of pants. Maybe go into town and fetch a doctor too. I'll stay with him."

"On it." Lettie and Charles ventured for water, bandages, and a change of clothes, another small group agreed to go into town for a doctor, while the others dispersed, leaving the tent, and leaving Phillip alone with Barnum. The younger man left the ringmaster for just a moment to fetch a stool and sit in front of him.

"It's going to hurt," Phillip murmured, all too familiar with the pain of burns himself, "but we've got to get these pants off you, okay?"

Barnum nodded, his eyes starting to water. In all the time that the two have known each other, Phillip had never seen the ringmaster so silent.

Phillip looked up at Barnum as he worked on unbuckling the older man's belt. Knowing that it would probably hurt like hell to try and get the pants off, he decided the best thing he could do was talk Barnum through it. "You really scared me, you know."

Barnum only stared at him.

Phillip slowly, very slowly, started to slide the pants down the ringmaster's legs. "When you screamed, I...I thought you were hurt, or dying, or—"

Barnum cried out.

"Sorry, sorry!" Phillip's hands shook a little as he stopped and looked up. Pain-filled eyes met his. "So, um...how'd you do it?" He started on the pants again, slowly.

"Do what?" Barnum rasped, not trusting his voice very much.

"You know, the fire and—" Phillip motioned toward the wet fabric that clung to Barnum's legs before he continued at his slow, steady pace.

"I don't wanna talk about it," Barnum muttered. His legs trembled.

"Oh, c'mon, like I'm gonna judge you? In case you've forgotten, you had to pull me out of a burning building, remember?" The burns didn't start too high on his thighs, thankfully, but Phillip couldn't help flinching when he saw the first glimpse of the bright red, angry flesh.

Barnum huffed. He winced again, tears springing to his eyes, as the fabric of his pants brushed against the red heat of the burns.

"Shh. Talk to me."

"I asked of the," Barnum gasped in pain, "fire acts to—" he grit his teeth in an effort not to groan, "fire dance."

"What?" Phillip gasped, yanked on the pants a little too roughly, and Barnum let out a loud cry of pain. Judging from the bright redness, the burns could have been a lot worse, but they still hurt like hell. "Sorry, sorry," Phillip fumbled again, hurriedly yanking his hands away as not to hurt the ringmaster any longer.

Tears were freely rolling down Barnum's cheeks now.

"Why would you do that?" Phillip murmured, gentle touch returning to the older man's legs.

"I wanted..." Barnum took a deep breath. "To impress you."

"What?" Phillip squeaked, pulling away, this time, before he could cause anymore harm. He looked up at Barnum incredulously. "Why would you want to do that?"

"I have my reasons," Barnum sighed.

"Tell me." Down his knees now. The hardest part was over.

"I—" The ringmaster sighed again.

A long pause.

Phillip frowned as he brought the ringmaster's pants down to his ankles. He stood up, grasped Barnum's hands in his, and helped him step out of the pants, leaving the older man only in his underwear.

"I feel ridiculous," he groaned in an attempt to change the subject.

"Barnum?" the younger man urged. He helped the ringmaster sink into the chair he'd previously been sitting in.

Barnum sighed and covered his eyes with the palms of his hands, leaning his head back. "I'm so much older than you, Phillip, and I...thought you'd get bored with me," he muttered, voice so quiet Phillip had to strain to hear him. "I thought, maybe, if I learned something new to impress you—"

"Barnum."

Barnum sat with his eyes still covered. Despite being interrupted, he didn't speak again.

"Phin, look at me."

Nothing.

Sighing, Phillip slowly sank into Barnum's lap, careful not to touch the angry streaks of red. Barnum gasped and his eyes snapped open. Phillip placed his hands on either side of the ringmaster's face.

"I love you, Phin. You don't have to risk hurting yourself just to 'impress' me."

Barnum raised a hand to cup Phillip's cheek. The younger man smiled and leaned into the touch before leaning forward to softly brush his lips against the ringmaster's. After pulling away, he placed a soft, ghost of a kiss to Barnum's neck. The older man sighed.

"I don't think either of us should be trusted around fire anymore," Phillip mused thoughtfully, running his hands through the ringmaster's wavy hair.

Barnum let out a scoff of a laugh.

"Well, well," a loud voice declared, "what have we got here?"

Both men jumped and Barnum howled as Phillip quickly scrambled from his lap. Lettie and Charles stared at them, snickering to themselves. The bearded woman lifted an eyebrow.

Phillip looked down at Barnum and laced their fingers, squeezing his hand. Barnum looked up and smiled, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

"I was just helping him get comfortable," Phillip declared.

"Yeah," Lettie chuckled, "real cute. Maybe Barnum should set himself on fire more often."

The two men looked at each other.

"Never again," Barnum declared, shaking his head. He squeezed Phillip's hand and the younger smiled.

Charles grinned and held up a container nearly as big as he was.

"Maybe a water act, next time."

 


	4. All The Time We Have Left

Prompt 31 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"I didn't want you to find out this way."

{I usually prefer circus-style historical fics like in the movie, but this is a modern AU because I found it to work best!)

Title: All The Time We Have Left

553 words

\---

Barnum hung up the phone, face white, hands trembling. He sank into an armchair and put his face in his hands. It didn't take long for the sobs to wrack his entire body.

Just moments after hanging up the phone, the front opened and swung shut with a light bang. He heard humming and footsteps, the rustle of something being set on a the table, and then a bright, familiar voice.

"I'm home, Phin!"

_How was he so happy? How long had he been keeping secrets?_

Barnum didn't respond, the lump in his throat too great. Silence rang in his ears for a moment, then the footsteps started again, light, hesitant. A confused voice called out, "Barnum?"

Barnum took a deep breath and straightened up, but tears continued to flood his eyes, blurring the doorway. After a moment, Phillip - his best friend, his lover, his partner - stepped into view.

"Phineas?" Phillip murmured. His expression twisted with worry as he took a hesitant step into the room. Barnum took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"Tell you wha—oh." The younger man's face drained of all color.

"Your Doctor called," Barnum muttered, shaking his head. "The cancer is back, isn't it?"

"Phineas, I—" Phillip's face crumbled, but he didn't cry. A dry sob escaped his throat as he croaked, "I didn't want you to find out this way."

The admission rang loud in Barnum's ears. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

"Well then," Barnum took another deep breath and slowly rose to his feet. He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around Phillip's waist, burying his face in the thin hair that was still in the process of growing back after the last round of chemo. "We'll just have to beat it again, won't we?"

"Phineas—" Phillip's voice cracked. He placed a trembling hand on Barnum's arm. "I had an appointment a few days ago—"

"I know," Barnum interrupted, "it's okay, we can—"

"Phin." A single tear rolled down Phillip's cheek as he turned to face him. "It's...it's not like last time."

"Whaddya mean? Of course it's like last time, we beat it last time, we—"

"I have four months, Phineas."

Barnum stared at his young lover, whose face, whose eyes, pleaded with him to understand. The older man blinked once. Twice.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes, Phineas." Phillip sniffled. But he didn't cry.

_"No."_

Barnum crumpled, as if losing complete control of his legs, to the carpeted floor. Phillip fell with him, arms immediately encircling the older man, burying his face in the man's neck.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"No, you can't, Phillip, I won't _let you_ —"

"Shh." Phillip clutched Barnum tight, holding the older man to his chest. The only indication Barnum had of Phillip's emotion were the tears he felt wettening his hair, his neck. He gasped out a broken sob.

"Phillip you can't, I don't know what I'm going to do without you, you _can't_ —"

"Let's...not think about that now," Phillip finally sobbed. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before reaching out to clutch Barnum's.

"But, Phillip—"

"Please," Phillip whispered. Broken, devastated. "Let's just...make use of all the time we have left."

 


	5. Here For You

Prompt 33 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"You don't know what it's like to lose a child."

Word Count: 1,006

Title: Here For You

**warning: implied character death**

\---

The circus, the "happiest place on Earth," had never quite been the same since that day. Phineas Taylor Barnum, the beloved ringmaster, made the decision to keep the circus running, much to everyone's surprise. Truth be told, it was the only thing left that kept him going. But the circus had never had the same charm, the same allure, that it had had before that fateful day. September 13th.

Barnum kept himself smiling, kept himself laughing, but everybody knew how hard it really was for the heartbroken man. He'd had some good days, some bad days, as any parent would after the death of a child, but that day would be particularly rough. It was a day that all of Barnum's employed acts, his circus family, had been positively dreading.

The one year anniversary of Caroline Barnum's tragic death.

Whispers buzzed around the tent. Everyone had been absolutely, positively sure that Barnum would cancel the show that day, but it was business as usual. Only, nobody has seen the man. Their show was scheduled to start in less than an hour and nobody had so much as heard from the heartbroken father whose daughter had died after being thrown off a horse.

"I'll go look for him," Phillip Carlyle finally volunteered. It beat sitting there and listening to pitying whispers about their ringmaster. So, before anyone could possibly protest or object, Phillip jumped to his feet (he'd been sitting on a bale of hay, talking with Anne) and hurried out of the main tent.

The grounds were almost eerily quiet. Had he not known any better, Phillip never would have guessed that they'd be starting a show in roughly fifty minutes. It was destined to be a pretty lame show, truth be told, unless he could find the missing ringmaster.

After the original building had burned to the ground, Barnum didn't have much of a proper office, but he made do with one of the back tents and, on a gut instinct, that was where Phillip headed first.

His gut was right, but he wished it hadn't been.

"Barnum?" Phillip whispered, lifting the flap to the side and peeking in. Everything seemed dark, cast in shadows, and paperwork was strewn all over Barnum's desk. Phillip's eyes drank in the scene before lowering, and that's where he found him. Barnum was sat on the ground with one leg stretched out and the other pulled up to his chest, top-hat lying sideways beside him and red coat staining green on the grass. His back pressed against the side of his desk, his head bowed, and he clutched something to his chest. He didn't seem to notice Phillip's presence and quiet sobs filled the air.

Phillip opened his mouth to call out, but hesitated. Changing his mind, he quietly entered the tent and approached the fallen ringmaster. The other man didn't even look up until Phillip knelt in front of him and reached out to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

Barnum jolted, pressing the picture frame closer to his body, head snapping upwards at the presence of another human being. His cheeks were streaked with tears, eyes completely bloodshot, almost wild.

Phillip's heart sunk. He'd been drinking.

"What are you doing here?" Barnum hiccuped.

Relieved to finally have some sort of response, Phillip reached out to tenderly brush a strand of hair from Barnum's eyes. "We were worried so I came—"

"My Caroline," Barnum interrupted, holding the photo away from himself so he could look down at it. "Oh, my Caroline."

His sobs broke Phillip's heart. Forgetting about the show and the others waiting for them, Phillip nestled himself next to Barnum and laid his head on the older man's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No!" Barnum shouted, startling Phillip. The younger man jumped and looked beside him at the ringmaster. "You can't, no, there's nothing, nothing, _nothing_."

Phillip swallowed a lump in his throat. He'd seen Barnum drunk before, of course, but never like this. "I just want to help, Phin," he murmured.

"You don't know what it's like to lose a child."

Phillip shuddered, the words sending a chill down his spine. "I'm here," he whispered, reaching out to take Barnum by the hand. But the ringmaster yanked his hand away.

"She left me, you know. Charity. She left with Helen. Said it was m-my fault Caroline died."

Charity Barnum had left her husband almost immediately after the funeral. Phillip was almost positive the man hadn't seen his younger daughter, Helen, since then.

"I know, Phin—"

Barnum slapped him.

Phillip recoiled with a cry, hand rising to his cheek, tears briefly forming in his eyes. Taking a shaky breath, he blinked the tears away.

"I don't want your pity," Barnum growled. But it was almost like the slap had sucked up all of his energy - he slumped against the desk, roles reversing as he laid his head on Phillip's shoulder. Suddenly exhausted from the strain of holding back his own tears, Phillip took the photo of Caroline and set it up on the desk before loosely wrapping his arms around Barnum's slumped upper body.

"I'm here," Phillip whispered again, nuzzling his face in Barnum's hair and kissing his head. The younger man's cheek still stung with the force of the slap, but he forced whispers of his father aside. Barnum loved him. Barnum loved him so, so much and he knew the older man wasn't normally like this. He'd turned to Phillip for comfort after Charity left and September 13th was honestly, truly a day from hell. He wouldn't remember any of this later on. Phillip wouldn't bother telling him about the slap because he knew it would only upset him.

And the show?

Well, show be damned.

Phillip placed his hand over Barnum's heart, feeling the steady rise and fall of the sleeping man's chest. Resting his cheek on top of Barnum's head, he closed his eyes, allowing sleep to overcome him as he, in one final, conscious movement, laced their fingers.

He dreamt of Caroline's sweet, smiling face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fr tho September 13th can rot in hell thank you


	6. You Are The World

Prompt 40 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Thank you for saving my life."

Word Count: 737

Title: You Are The World

**warning: PTSD elements**

\---

Phillip didn't mean to wake Barnum, he really didn't. He removed the sleeping man's arms from around his waist as quietly and carefully as he could, and pressed a quick, featherlight kiss to the side of his partner's head before crawling out of bed.

It was nearing three a.m. Unknowingly to Phillip, the ringmaster could feel the warmth leaving his arms, could feel Phillip's soft lips as they brushed against his skin. He stayed motionless, though, as footsteps padded out of the room. He knew his partner sometimes got restless during the night and figured he might be going for a quick walk or to get a drink of water.

Close to ten minutes passed before the man left in bed figured something was up.

Groaning, Barnum sat up, a rush of cold air crossing his bare chest, making him shiver. He knew Phillip had to leave early in the mornings so they wouldn't be caught spending the night together, but this was too early. And yet, Phillip hadn't come back.

The ringmaster fetched a robe from his closet and tied it around himself before venturing out into the hallway, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. He padded his way toward the stairs before stopping, tilting his head as a light thud came from a nearby room, followed by mumbling that the man couldn't make out.

The library. Of course.

Barnum turned and headed in the other direction, taking notice now that the library door was just slightly ajar. He pushed it open, it squeaked, and somebody gasped.

"Phillip?"

He could just barely make out the young man in the darkness, kneeling on the floor, a few books strewn about. A glowing candle on the table right next to him provided the only light in the room.

"I'm sorry," Phillip's voice wavered, head bowed, refusing to look the older man in the eye, "I accidentally knocked into the shelf so—"

"It's fine. Are you all right?" Barnum approached the younger man before he could back away and knelt down, cupping Phillip's chin in his hand. His face flushed orange in the glow of the candlelight.

"Fine." Phillip turned his head away. Barnum looked down, noticing how Phillip's hands shook as he picked up the books.

"Tell me what's wrong."

Phillip paused. Barnum kept his gaze steady as he watched the younger man swallow. "Do you—"

"Do I what, 'Lip?"

A single tear rolled down Phillip's cheek. Barnum wiped it away with his thumb and looked around the room. A blanket laid across the back of a reading chair and he went to retrieve it. When he came back, he draped the blanket over Phillip's shoulders and held him.

Phillip sighed and rested his head against Barnum's robed chest, closing his eyes. "Do you ever think about the fire?"

"All the time," Barnum whispered. He laced his fingers in Phillip's slept-on hair and lightly massaged his scalp as if they were in the bath. "Is that what this is about?"

"I have nightmares," Phillip whimpered, trembling just slightly. "I came here to read, to forget, but I...I _can't_ —"

He broke off. Barnum clutched him tighter and pulled the young man into his lap. "Shh. You're safe now."

"Barnum, I—" Phillip let out the tiniest of whimpers. "Thank you. For...For saving my life."

Barnum turned Phillip's head by his chin and pressed his forehead to the younger man's. "You say that as if it were a choice," he murmured before kissing him. Phillip sank into it, closing his eyes, before Barnum pulled away slowly, leaving his lips lingering just over his partner's.

"You didn't have to—"

"Your life is not a choice to be gambled with, Phillip," Barnum whispered. He kissed Phillip's forehead and closed his eyes. "You mean the absolute world to me."

Phillip didn't say anything, but there was a slight catch to his breath. Barnum cupped his cheek in his hand, running his thumb slowly over the soft skin.

"I have nightmares too," the ringmaster whispered. Phillip opened his eyes slowly, drinking in the hazel that peered at him, colors dancing in the flickering candlelight. "I couldn't save you. Sometimes when you don't spend the night with me, I wake up and I...I think—"

"Oh, Barnum."

"Shh." The blanket had started to fall off Phillip's shoulders so Barnum readjusted it before encircling his arms around the man's slim waist. "You're here with me now. That's all that matters."

 


	7. Cry For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM VERY MUCH AN ACEY ASEXUAL AND THIS IS MY FIRST "MATURE" FIC FOR THIS FANDOM SO I TAKE NO RESPONSIBILITY FOR HOW SHITTY THIS MAY OR MAY NOT BE

Prompt 59 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"You're the only one I know who cries during sex."

Word Count: 421

Title: Cry For Me

**Warning: Mature**

\---

Barnum closed his eyes, groaning softly as he sank into the younger man beneath him. Fingernails clawed desperately at his back, decorating his skin in angry read streaks. He pressed his lips to his lover's, who gasped into his mouth, before beginning to move.

Barnum pulled away from his lover's lips to decorate his jaw, his throat, in feverish, hungry kisses. The younger man whimpered and squirmed underneath.

"Phin," Phillip begged in a high-pitched whine, "oh, Phin, please - more..."

Barnum snickered as he pulled away from the young man's throat and changed the angle of his hips, driving into his lover deep. Phillip cried out, arching his back, pressing the back of his head into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut.

Barnum slowed down and Phillip groaned, digging his fingernails into Barnum's bare back.

"Please," he sobbed, tears leaking from his eyes. They rolled down his cheeks, his ears, and soaked into the pillow.

Barnum stopped all together, tilting his head with a smirk as he looked upon his lover.

Phillip gasped and tried digging his heels into Barnum's skin to drive him in deeper, faster, but when that didn't work, the older man completely still inside him, he whimpered and opened his eyes. Tears leaked from his eyes and he opened his mouth to protest.

Barnum chuckled, wiping a tear away with the pad of his thumb. Phillip stared up at him, blue eyes wondering, begging.

"You're the only person I know who cries during sex," Barnum mused thoughtfully.

Phillip's lips parted. Pink blush painted his cheeks.

"That's why you stopped?" he rasped. Sweaty strands of normally perfectly placed hair clung to his forehead. "To - to make fun of me?"

Barnum chuckled, a sound that erupted from deep within his chest, and pressed his lips to his partner's. Phillip immediately responded to the attention, lips parting, lacing one arm around Barnum's neck. The other hand reached down to touch himself. Barnum grasped his hand by the wrist.

Phillip broke away from the kiss with another whine. "Phin, please—"

Barnum thrust into him, hard, and Phillip howled, upper body lifting off the bed again. His cheeks were wet and red. Barnum's lips curled into a smirk and he kissed Phillip under his eye, the taste of salt exploding on his tongue, before moving his lips to the younger man's ear.

"I like it," he whispered.

 


	8. Before You Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> {I KNOW RUNNING WATER WASNT A THING IN MOST AREAS YET, BUT LETS PRETEND IT WAS, MKAY?}
> 
> I'm sorry this one is shit, for some reason I couldn't come up with any other ideas

Prompt 23 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Did you steal my {coat/hat}?"

Word Count: 416

Title: Before You Go

**Warning: Brief mention of nudity, implied "fade to black" sex (end)**

\---

He had left the red coat hanging proudly outside the door of his closet as he mused with his hair in the mirror. The bathroom was filled with steam, towel hanging low around Barnum's waist as he combed through his wet, wavy hair. Finally, he left the bathroom to prepare for the show coming up later that night.

It wasn't until he had his pants on that he noticed the coat was gone. Frowning, the ringmaster opened the closet door, figuring he'd perhaps left it inside.

The coat was nowhere to be seen.

Scowling, Barnum left the bedroom to see if maybe, just maybe, he'd accidentally left it in the coat closet. No such luck.

It wasn't until he'd come back into the room that he heard the slight chuckle come from underneath the covers.

Raising an eyebrow, Barnum approached the bed. He paused for a brief moment before taking the corner of the blanket, which was pulled suspiciously over the lump in the bed, and tugged it back.

Bright, laughing blue eyes met his. Phillip laid curled up in the fetal position on the bed, the missing red coat draped over his body like a blanket. Their difference in size was so great that the coat covered most of the younger man's body, especially as he laid curled up like that.

Lip curling up in a smirk, Barnum asked, "Did you steal my coat?"

Well, duh.

Phillip tugged the coat closer to his body, burying his nose in the collar. "I got cold."

"Oh?"

"Mmm. And it smells nice."

Barnum chuckled. "Well I need it for tonight, darling."

Phillip stretched out just as Barnum lifted the coat up from over him. He gasped.

The younger man was wearing nothing underneath.

Phillip's eyes flashed mischievously as he reached up, wrapping his arms around Barnum's bare shoulders. The coat slipped from Barnum's fingers, falling to the floor, as he crawled onto the bed, covering his body over Phillip's.

They kissed, chest to chest, and Phillip pulled away, looking at the ringmaster with fire in his eyes. Stretching out his body from underneath the older man, he reached up and pressed a kiss to the lobe of Barnum's ear.

"Think you have time for a different kind of show?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was s h i t I apologize!!


	9. What's Mine Is Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, I'M POSTING TWO VERSIONS OF PROMPT 23. THIS IS ON PURPOSE. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO READ ONE TO UNDERSTAND THE OTHER.

Prompt 23 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Did you steal my {coat/hat}?"

Word Count: 437

Title: What's Mine Is Mine

**Warning: implied, fade-to-black sex (end)**

-

"Phillip? What are you doing?"

Phillip's eyes widened as he spun around, the slightly too-big coat whipping around him, to face the intruder. The bedroom door was open, Barnum's hand still on the knob, as he looked the younger man up and down. A slow smirk settled on the older man's lips and he leaned against the door.

"Did you steal my coat?" he chuckled.

Phillip's face heated up, almost matching the bright red fabric. "I - I can explain," he stuttered.

Barnum's eyes travelled down the man's chest to his waist, then up again. He stepped into the room, closing the door with a soft click behind him. Phillip had been standing by a full length mirror and pressed his back against it. Barnum reached out, grabbed the younger man by the wrist, and easily pulled him forward.

"Do explain," he breathed, encircling his arms around Phillip's slim waist. Phillip pressed his hands flat against Barnum's chest and looked up at him.

"I - your coat was just on the door and the show isn't for a few hours so I—" Phillip stopped and took a deep breath. Barnum's arms were strong around his waist, his breath light, but hot against his face. Suddenly, as if transforming, his eyes darkened and he reached up to wrap his arms around Barnum's neck. "I decided to try it on for myself," he purred.

"And why's that?" Barnum rested his hand against Phillip's cheek before slowly dragging his finger down the man's neck. Phillip sighed and tilted his head to the side.

"Mmm, I thought it smelt nice."

"Oh?" Barnum chuckled. Phillip hadn't realized it until just then, but the ringmaster had been slowly maneuvering them away from the mirror and toward the bed. His blue eyes flashed mischievously as he reached up on tiptoe and pressed his lips to Barnum's.

Barnum groaned into the kiss and then they were falling, his body covering Phillip's, onto the bed, a tangled mess of limbs and lips and teeth. Phillip groaned as Barnum pulled away to kiss down his neck, and tangled his fingers in the ringmaster's wild hair.

Barnum looked up at him, fire flashing in his eyes, and grinned before pressing his lips to Phillip's. Phillip arched his back and pulled away from the kiss to mutter in Barnum's ear.

"Think we have time for a different kind of show, _ringmaster_?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ^ I feel like that's somewhat better so hopefully it's an improvement, lol


	10. Take A Break

Prompt 49 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Suck my dick."

"That can be arranged."

Word Count: 459

Title: Take A Break

**Warning: NSFW themes - no actual scenes though**

\---

It was a quiet day at the circus. There was no show to be held that day so the acts were home, relaxing, and for once, the delighted laughter and amazement of the audience didn't fill the air. The grounds were almost deserted - save for one young apprentice and his very frustrated partner.

Phillip was seated, cross-legged, on the floor, writing down ideas for next week's shows when Barnum suddenly yelled out. The younger man jumped and looked up as Barnum brought his fist down on his desk with a cry.

" _Christ_."

"Are you all right?" Phillip asked, setting aside his notes. Barnum scowled at him, face going red.

"It's this damn paperwork," he muttered, scowling down at the papers strewn about his desk. He knocked over a pen in his frustration, muttering under his breath as he bent over to pick it up.

Phillip's eyes widened slightly. It wasn't often when the normally enthusiastic, full-of-life ringmaster worked himself up like this. The younger man stood from his spot on the ground, but Barnum didn't seem to notice as he got up.

"These fucking costs—" Barnum growled, rubbing his temples. Suddenly, he felt rough, warm hands envelope his own. He lifted his eyes.

"Hey," Phillip murmured, a soft smile crossing his lips, "take it easy."

"Take it easy?" Barnum barked out a laugh, hardly registering the fact that his partner was slowly lowering himself into his lap. "How about you suck my dick, Carlyle?"

"Mmm," Phillip tilted his head and licked his lips, "that could be arranged."

Barnum seemed to notice for the first time that Phillip was on top of him. His lips parted in surprise as the younger man kissed him, pressing his back into the chair, the chair into the wall. He broke away with a slight gasp, eyes slightly hazy as he looked upon Phillip Carlyle, whose lip turned up in a smirk.

"What was that for?" he breathed.

"You need to relax, babe." Phillip draped his arms around his neck, bringing their foreheads together. "Paperwork's not going anywhere. Take a break."

Barnum's mouth went dry as he fiddled with the younger man's tie. "And...what exactly do you have in mind?"

"I can think of a few ideas," Phillip snickered. "But, first - I think you had one of your own."

Barnum licked his lips as Phillip removed himself from his lap and gracefully dropped to his knees on the floor. He smirked as he looked up at Barnum's hazed-over expression.

"And we all know," Phillip hummed as he reached out to undo Barnum's belt, his palm purposely ghosting over the growing bulge in the ringmaster's pants, "that P.T. Barnum is chalk full of great ideas."

 


	11. The Sound of Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will love you forever if you know Simon & Garfunkel

Prompt 56 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"You're acting like I don't exist."

Word Count: 575

Title: The Sound of Silence

\---

Barnum laid slumped in the chair, head lolled to the side, light snores escaping his breath. Phillip peered at him in the darkness and crept behind him as silently as possible. He wrapped his arms around Barnum from behind and kissed the older man's stubbly cheek.

"Come to bed," he whispered as Barnum began to stir. The ringmaster stretched and covered his mouth with a hand as he yawned. Phillip smiled and bent down to kiss the older man's ear.

Barnum recoiled.

Phillip frowned. The broad shoulders slipped from his hands as Barnum stood. He didn't turn around.

"Phin?"

The shoulders stiffened. Barnum sighed. "What do you want, Phillip?"

"Are you coming to bed?" Phillip murmured. He dropped his eyes from Barnum's back to the floor.

"No, Phillip. I'm not."

A lump formed in Phillip's throat. "I know we had that fight earlier, but—"

"And the one before that, and the one before that, and the one before that." Phillip continued to talk to Barnum's back. He noticed the older man's hand ball into a fist at his side.

"Why are you doing this?" Phillip didn't trust his voice. He could barely talk above a whisper.

Barnum scoffed. Finally, he turned around. The way he stared at Phillip made the younger man feel tiny and defenseless. "Doing what, exactly?" he snapped.

"You're...You're acting like I don't exist." Phillip's blue eyes welled with tears.

"Oh, there you go with the waterworks again. When are you ever going to learn to grow up?"

Phillip took a step back. He couldn't hold the tears back anymore. "I don't understand," he whispered.

Barnum scoffed again. "Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Spell...what out?"

"I don't _love you_ , Phillip."

Phillip choked on a sob and covered his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut. "You...you don't mean that, Barnum. It was just a fight. I—"

"A fight?" Barnum laughed. "No, most couples can work out a fight, Phillip. You betrayed me. You betrayed me and slept with her."

Phillip sobbed as he fell back into the armchair. "I'm so sorry," he croaked, "I'm sorry, Barnum, but I was drunk and I c-can't take it back. Please—I don't...I've already lost my father, Phin. I can't lose you too—"

"Oh, there you go with that 'my father hates me' bullshit. It's always the same excuses with you, isn't it?"

Phillip didn't say a word.

"Get your head out of your ass, Carlyle. You aren't the only one who suffered a shitty childhood. That doesn't excuse what you did."

"You...you don't...love me...anymore?" As if he were only just now registering the words, Phillip moaned and buried his face in his hands. It was Barnum's sharp laugh that brought him out of his temporary shelter.

"Did I _say_ 'anymore'?"

The words rang in his ears and the younger man's lips parted in shock. He reached out to Barnum like a child reaching out to a neglectful parent. "Barnum, you don't mean that—"

"Get the hell out of my house. Maybe your whore will take you back."

Phillip stared up at Barnum. Then, as if his legs had a mind of his own, he got up and shuffled out the door. The door closed behind him with a note of finality.

The silence was deafening.

Barnum stared at the door for a moment, then two.

Then he sank into the chair, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed. He sobbed for the man he loved, the man he lost, and the man he could never trust again.

 


	12. The Greatest Show

Prompt 40 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Sorry, I - I thought you were Lettie."

Word Count: 442

Title: The Greatest Show

\---

Lettie had a sore throat and could hardly speak, let alone perform. She'd come to the circus that day because the circus was her home and she was there to support the other acts, but Phillip felt sorry for her so, before the show, he offered to go into town and get her medicine and a hot drink.

Now, he was starting to regret that decision as he rushed into the tent, the roar of the audience screaming in his ears. He saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye and, without pausing to consider whether not that could be _someone else_ in the _circus filled with people_ , he raced off in that direction.

"Hey, Let—!"

Phillip's words were cut off with an oof as he bounced off a firm chest, stumbling back, spilling the hot drink all over himself and whoever he'd run into. Hot liquid soaked into both of their shirts as Phillip looked up, face burning bright pink, into the eyes of the bewildered ringmaster.

"Sorry, I - I thought you were Lettie."

Barnum stared at him a moment and cleared his throat. Phillip's eyes traveled down his face to the older man's broad chest, his bright red signature jacket soaked through, staining brown.

"Oh no," Phillip moaned. Fumbling, he grabbed for Barnum's hand. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it. I'll—"

"Phillip."

Phillip halted at the sound of his own name on the ringmaster's lips. A rough, calloused finger curled itself up under his chin and forced his head up.

"It's fine," Barnum smirked, "I can take care of myself."

The two were alone, separate from the audience and the rest of the acts. Phillip felt his mouth go dry as Barnum unclasped his jacket one button at a time. He pulled that off and, for some unknown reason, the shirt went with it too.

Phillip jerked his head to the side and tried not to stare at the ringmaster's naked chest, but he caught himself glancing out of the corner of his eye. Sandpaper filled his mouth. His cheeks heated up.

Looking up at Barnum's face again, he found himself imagining Barnum's lips on his. Barnum's hand on his hip, pulling him closer. His hands pressed against the ringmaster's chest as he stood on tiptoe, and—

"Better get that medicine to Lettie, yeah?" Barnum laughed. He slapped Phillip on the back before turning and walking off., red coat slung over his arm.

Phillip watched him go, eyes trailing the muscles in Barnum's back as the man walked. His heart thundered in his chest.

Now it was he who felt all sorts of sick and lightheaded.

 


	13. See You Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T CRUCIFY ME, PLEASE

Prompt 4 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"He's missing."

Word Count: 820

Title: See You Again

**warning: major character death**

\---

The fight had been Barnum's fault, but he'd blamed it on Phillip. He'd been ignoring Phillip lately, stress of the circus getting to him more than he'd care to admit, even to his lover. Finally, after Barnum had ignored Phillip for almost a week, the younger man approached him.

And that's when Barnum, a man that people never saw angry, not out in public, snapped.

"I told you to leave me the hell alone!" Barnum shouted, running a hand over his lined face. Phillip, backed up against the wall, tried to reach out to him.

"Phin, please—"

His hand ghosted against Barnum's sleeve and the ringmaster slapped it away. Blue eyes flashed hurt, but Barnum didn't seem to notice. Or care.

"If I never see you again, it'll be too soon," he muttered. He stalked off without a second thought. Phillip watched him go.

*

The next morning, Barnum woke to an empty bed. Phillip had left him a note the night before that he left on the nightstand.

_Went to the bar, might still be out when you wake. Maybe we can talk about tonight? I love you. ~Phillip_

Barnum sighed. He knew he'd acted up last night and he felt like shit about it, but - well, he couldn't be happy all the time, could he? Circus Barnum and Real World Barnum were two different people, after all.

The ringmaster was pulled out of his thoughts by a frantic knocking at the door.

"Boy probably forgot his key again," Barnum chuckled. His partner had been right - he was feeling better now, and he regretted treated Phillip the way he did. Maybe once the younger man sobered up, they could talk about it.

And Barnum would, of course, make it up to him in other ways too.

The knocking persisted and Barnum leisured to the front of the house to answer it. When he opened the door, a frantic Anne practically threw herself into his arms.

"Is Phillip here?!" she demanded.

"No, I - I thought he was at the door."

"Oh," Anne moaned. She sank into Barnum's arms. "Oh, no."

"What?!" Barnum demanded. The girl had practically deflated, forcing him to hold her up. "What is it?!"

"Barnum," Anne choked up when she tilted her head back. Tears welled in her eyes. "Phillip is - he's missing."

*

They found him in the river, alive, but half-drowned, still clutching a bottle of alcohol in his hand. They said his lungs had filled with water. It was a miracle he was even still alive.

Barnum held his hand while they were alone. He quickly dropped his hand or stayed at a distance when he heard someone approach the room, but when they were alone it was all tears. All apologies. All pleas for the younger man to _please_ , if there is a God, _please_ pull through.

Barnum didn't know how much time had passed since entering the hospital. Hours, days, weeks? He blocked out any activity that wasn't Phillip, _his_ Phillip, lying in the hospital bed, face gray, lips almost blue. He was not to leave the other man's side. He couldn't.

It was his fault they were there in the first place.

*

It was during an hour (or day or week) such as these, with the door closed and the curtains drawn, that Barnum kissed Phillip's cool forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut and kept his lips against the smooth skin for a long moment before slowly pulling away and pressing their foreheads together. He laced their fingers together and kept his eyes shut.

Phillip squeezed his hand.

Barnum gasped and jerked upwards, eyes popping, but their hands remained clasped together. Phillip squeezed his hand again and his eyes opened - barely enough to see the familiar traces of bright, bright blue.

"Phin," Phillip rasped.

"Phillip. I'm here, I'm here," Barnum sobbed. He showered the young man's ashen face with kisses before turning his head to call for a doctor.

"Phin, no."

The voice was barely there, but another squeeze of his hand was enough to bring Barnum's attention back to his partner. He looked down at the man in the hospital bed, confusion written all over his face.

"Phin, it's not—" Phillip choked, barely able to work his voice, "—worth it."

"You're hurt, 'Lip, you need help," Barnum insisted. "You've been out for—"

He stopped when he realized the man's grasp was weakening, his fingers slipping and hand falling to the mattress. Fresh tears welled in Barnum's eyes as he cupped his partner's face.

"Phillip, _don't_. You're here. You made it."

"We'll talk about it later," Phillip whispered. He struggled to lift his arms, but Barnum leaned down to meet him.

_"If I never see you again, it'll be too soon."_

"Don't leave me," Barnum cried. "I didn't mean it, Phillip, I didn't - I want to spend the rest of my life with you, God, _please_ , I love you so fucking much, please _don't leave me_."

The ringmaster turned to scream for help just as Phillip Carlyle breathed his last.

"I forgive you."

 


	14. Rewrite The Stars

Prompt 2 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Guess what I got!"

Modern AU!

Word Count: 426

Title: Rewrite The Stars

**WARNING: IS LITERALLY THE CHEESIEST THING YOU WILL HAVE EVER WITNESSED WITH YOUR OWN TWO EYEBALLS**

\---

Barnum was a bright, happy, energetic man. Any positive adjective a person could think of could probably describe Phineas Barnum in one way or another. Excitable, loyal, lovable. The man was like a giant puppy dog that radiated positive energy.

However, despite all this, Phillip couldn't recall a time that he'd seen the full-of-life man _giggle_ before.

"Guess what I got!" Barnum announced, bursting into their bedroom. Phillip looked up from the book he was reading.

"Oh, God. Should I be scared?"

Barnum giggled. Actually full-on giggled, complete with reddening cheeks and a hand that he slapped over his mouth. Phillip's jaw dropped.

He just fell in love with the man all over again.

"Come on!" Barnum urged. Phillip put his book down and slowly got out of bed. His partner instantly grabbed him by the arm and covered his eyes.

"Hey!" Phillip reached up to put his hand over Barnum's.

"I got you," Barnum chuckled. He pulled Phillip to his chest, hugging him close, before letting him go and guiding him along. When they got to the top of the stairs, Barnum simply picked him up bridal style and carried him down.

"Barnum!" Phillip gasped, burying his face into the ringmaster's neck. He felt lips press against his temple.

"Almost there," Barnum hummed.

Phillip continued to be carried, but Barnum instructed that he keep his eyes closed. He felt himself being lowered and he realized he was being sat in a chair. A cool breeze rustled past - they were outside.

"Can I open my eyes now?" Phillip wondered.

"No."

Phillip heard rustling, then the sound of something being opened and closed. After a moment, Barnum cleared his throat.

"Now," he whispered, a slight hitch in his voice.

Smiling, Phillip opened his eyes.

Barnum knelt in front of him, wearing the red coat and top hat he wore as the magician when they met at Phillip's nephew's birthday party. Behind him, a small, makeshift circus-style tent had been set up in the yard.

In his palm, a small, velvet box.

Phillip's vision hazed over and all he could see was Barnum's face, his lips moving, speaking words meant for no outside audience to hear. He came back into focus when Barnum laid a hand on top of his.

"Phillip," he finished, smiling soft, tears shining in his eyes, "will you rewrite the stars with me?"

\---

why yes, I could not resist a corny as hell ending because it's Barnum for god's sake and we all know he'd be a corny bastard, ur welcome

also I couldn't come up with a proposal speech so ur welcome also for the cheap escape route

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes, I could not resist a corny as hell ending because it's Barnum for god's sake and we all know he'd be a corny bastard, ur welcome
> 
> also I couldn't come up with a proposal speech so ur welcome also for the cheap escape route


	15. Broken

Prompt 6 and 12 from '60 Barlyle prompts.' (I'm assuming Anon is asking for them together)

"You hurt me. And I don't think I could ever forget that." and "I saw you with her."

AU in which Charity and Barnum were never married - the girls, obviously, were never born.

Word Count: 430

Title: Broken

**Warning: depression and ableism (PLEASE read the end note!!)**

\---

Barnum hummed to himself as he strode in through the front door, still high off of that incredible freshly-fucked feeling. He hung his top hat up and unbuttoned his red coat as he strode into the front room.

"Hey, darling," Barnum mumbled, smiling soft as he bent down to kiss Phillip's ear. "How are you feeling?"

The younger man stared out the window. He didn't say a word.

"I trust Anne got you here all right? I'm sorry you had to miss the rest of the show - wouldn't you rather be in bed?"

"I saw you with her, Barnum."

The ringmaster frowned. "What?"

Phillip turned around and glared up at him. "You kissed her," he choked, "right in front of me."

"Phillip, what on Earth are you going on about?"

"I know you think I'm invisible. Ever since that goddamned fire landed me in this...this thing." Phillip cried out and slapped the side of his chair. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks. "You - you can't fuck me anymore, can you? I'm too scarred, too ugly to look at." Phillip glared down at his legs, which were covered in a thick blanket. "You hate that the fire took my legs away. So you - you turned to her instead."

A lump formed in Barnum's throat, but he forced it down. "Don't be ridiculous, Phillip," he managed evenly.

"Ridiculous? Barnum, I know you slept with her."

Barnum stared down at his partner, easily towering over the man in the wheelchair. Phillip stared back evenly enough, but there were tears in his eyes and his cheeks were wet from before.

"You hurt me," he choked, "and I don't think I can ever forgive that."

Phillip wheeled himself away from the window. Barnum grabbed onto the handle of the wheelchair and pulled it to an abrupt stop. Frustrated, Phillip squirmed. The blanket fell from his lap.

"Let go of me!"

"You know what? Fine."

Barnum's hand fell from the handle and he walked away. Phillip squirmed in his permanent seat and tried to reach down for his blanket, but couldn't reach. His burnt, unusable legs throbbed in agony.

The broken man sobbed.

Phineas Barnum went upstairs without a second glance.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note: I have a form of cerebral palsy and this prompt is not meant to disrespect any member of the disabled community. it is simply for angst and entertainment purposes only.


	16. Guess Who

Prompt 13 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"I'm fine."

Word Count: 865

Title: Guess Who

\---

"I'm fine."

"Phillip, that's your third drink."

"So?" The man wasn't totally drunk yet, but, at the rate he was going, was quickly getting there. He hiccuped and covered his mouth. "If you think I'm stopping at three—"

"We've been here not even ten minutes."

"I'm fiiiiine!" Phillip giggled and threw his head back, downing another shot, "fine!" he sang, slamming the glass on the countertop.

"Is something wrong?" Barnum fretted.

"Wrong? We're here for you, remember?"

"That's why I'm worried."

Phineas Barnum had just finalized his divorce with Charity. Phillip insisted on taking him out that night and, relieved at the idea of actually relaxing a little, Barnum had agreed. Only - it seemed his friend had a lot more he wanted to drink away than Barnum did.

"Is something wrong, 'Lip?"

"Wrong?" Barnum hadn't realized it, but Phillip had already emptied his fourth glass. "Nothing's wrong!" He motioned for the bartender to pour him another. "Why would anything be wrong?"

"Phillip."

"It's not like," Phillip grinned and wrapped his arm around Barnum's neck, pulling the older man close, "I have any big secrets or anything."

Barnum merely stared at him.

"It's not like," Phillip downed another glass, "I like someone I can't have."

"I think that's enough," Barnum said, reaching to take the glass away. Phillip whined, loud, high pitched.

"C'mon, Phin, don't be such a—" Phillip hiccuped. He giggled, "a damn tease. Lemme 'ave a drink."

"You've had more than enough." Barnum rolled his eyes.

"You're always such a tease, Barnum, you know that?" Phillip leaned forward. Pressed his hands flat against the older man's chest. Barnum looked around, but nobody was paying either of them any attention.

"A tease?" Barnum asked, playing along.

Phillip pulled away, giggling, and changed the subject. "You ever try to s-...smush our names together?"

"What?"

Phillip's face grew serious. He frowned. "Barnum and Carlyle. Carlyle and Barnum. Carnum?" The frown melted away as he giggled. "Nooo...Barlyle. Yeah. Bar...lyleee." He giggled again and covered his mouth.

"C'mon now, be serious. What were you saying earlier? About liking...someone you can't have?"

"The ringmaster of the circus is telling me to be serious?" Phillip giggled. "Isn't that an ox–ox–oxy—"

"Oxymoron?"

"Yeah, that!"

Phillip grabbed for the glass and downed another drink, then another. Barnum hadn't had a drink all night.

"C'mon, 'Lip. Tell me about this person you like."

"Weeellll," Phillip frowned. "They recently got out of a re-re-rela—"

"Relationship?"

"Uh-huh." He hiccuped. "I can't...have them...though." He bit his lower lip and downcast his eyes.

"Oh? Why not?"

"Ca-Can't talk 'bout it." Phillip folded his arms over his chest.

"Well, is she pretty?"

Phillip threw his head back and laughed, startling Barnum.

"What's wrong?"

"Sh-She," Phillip giggled, covering his mouth. "You said she."

Realization dawned on the ringmaster. "Oh—they're not...?"

Phillip shook his head.

"Well," the ringmaster lowered his voice. He would never have suspected this about his friend. "Tell me about him, then."

"He's older than me." Phillip blushed and squirmed in his seat like a schoolgirl talking about a crush.

"Oh? Do I know him?"

"Uh-huh. Real well." Phillip beamed.

"Well, I haven't got any idea as to who it could be. It's not W.D., is it?" W.D. wasn't in any sort of relationship that Barnum knew of, but really, how much did he know about his acts outside the circus? Phillip had certainly surprised him.

"No."

"Charles?" Was Charles older than him, though? Barnum couldn't remember.

Phillip howled. He laughed so hard, tears formed in his eyes. "Nooooooo. Though," he paused and tilted his head to the side as if giving the idea some serious thought, "it would be nice to be the taller one in the relationship for once."

Barnum snorted.

"Well, I haven't got any idea. Mind giving me a hint?"

"Well..." Phillip paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. He smiled a mile wide. "He's a real tease."

"C'mon, 'Lip, like that helps at a—"

_"You're always such a tease, Barnum, you know that?"_

Barnum's eyes widened as he looked at his friend, his business partner, in total shock. Phillip was still grinning and leaned in close - he didn't kiss the ringmaster, but came damn near close to it.

"Figure it out?" he breathed.

*

When Phillip stumbled downstairs the next morning, Barnum was waiting for him in the living room. The ringmaster's eyes were heavy with lack of sleep. Grimacing, Phillip paused to look at him.

"Are you all right, Phineas?"

"We need to talk," Barnum started. He got up and approached Phillip, whose hand fell from his head as he looked up.

"About wha—"

Taking a deep breath, Barnum plunged forward and kissed him. Phillip's eyes blew wide - he stood in frozen shock.

But then, he melted into it. Sighing, he reached up and wrapped his arms around the ringmaster's neck, pulling him closer. Barnum held one hand at Phillip's hip and trailed the other down the younger man's back. When they pulled away, Phillip's eyes were dark with shock and tears.

"Did I—"

"You did," Barnum murmured, trailing a finger along Phillip's jaw, "but it's okay. I'm...willing to try, if you are."

Phillip stared at the older man a long moment. Tears of relief rolled down his cheeks.

"You don't know how long I've been hiding—"

Barnum moved forward again and kissed him. Phillip sank into the embrace, feeling at home in Barnum's strong arms.

_Home._

_He was home._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt went in a slightly different direction than I was expecting with the dialogue, but I hope you liked it!


	17. What Doesn't Last Forever

Prompt 11 and 12 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"But I lo—you know what? Forget it." And "I saw you with her."

AU in which Charity and Barnum were never married - the girls, obviously, were never born.

Word Count: 810

Title: What Doesn't Last Forever

\---

"I saw you with her."

Phillip walked into his home with Phineas Barnum, cringing as he shut the door behind him. The ringmaster stood waiting, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the younger man who was over a full decade his junior.

Heat flamed the back of Phillip's neck. He'd never been a very good liar - which, he supposed, was how Phineas Barnum was able to rope him into the circus business in the first place. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You kissed her in the middle of my circus ring."

"Barnum, I—" Phillip sighed and closed his eyes. How he longed for a drink right about now. "I never meant for this to be anything more than just a...a—"

"A what? An affair? An experiment? You wanted to see what it'd be like to be another man's lover?" Barnum was stoic. Calm. A sharp contrast from the man who usually pranced around his circus, singing, enticing his audience with promises of fun and magic.

"I..." a catch of breath, a very brief hesitation that made Barnum's shoulders stiffen, "I love her, Phineas," Phillip murmured, dropping his eyes. A sharp exhale made him cringe.

"But I lo—you know what? Forget it."

Phillip looked up, biting his lower lip. The ringmaster sank into his chair and looked up to meet his lover's gaze, eyes wary, tired.

"You want to be with Anne. I get it. She's young, beautiful."

"Phin—" Tears filled Phillip's eyes. His chest ached.

"You and I both know we will never grow old together. Look at me. I'm already halfway to eighty." Barnum scoffed.

Phillip closed his eyes. There's no way he could've guessed, he told himself. There was no way.

But Barnum did guess, and Barnum was right. As usual.

He couldn't handle being with someone he loved so much, knowing that Phineas would leave him so much sooner. Anne was young, beautiful, _controversial_ , but even so - not as dangerous as Phineas. He loved the man, he did, but - doubt made him weak, made his anxiety spike.

Phillip cried, but he wasn't sure if Barnum noticed.

"I understand," Barnum whispered, "some people can't handle that much difference in a relationship. The circus, sure. But the circus isn't life. Relationships...relationships should last forever. A lifetime. And if you're scared I can't provide you with the lifetime you need, well—"

A sob escaped Phillip's throat and he took a few steps forward, toward Barnum's chair, before sinking to the floor. He laid his head in Barnum's lap. The older man stroked his hair.

"I'll allow it, Phillip, if that's what you want," Barnum whispered.

"No," Phillip moaned. Oh, how he ached for a drink right now. He lifted his head, flooded eyes peering up to meet Barnum's. "I want - I want you. I'm sorry. I want you," he wept.

"Anne—"

"No! I-I don't...I want...Barnum, please—"

"I don't want to hold you back, darling." Barnum cupped Phillip's face in his hands, wiped the tears away with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm sorry," Phillip cried, "I'm sorry. You're not - you're _not_ —"

Barnum gently eased the younger man into his lap and Phillip, a man who never had a stable relationship in his life, be it platonic, family, romantic, or otherwise, wept into his shoulder.

"I'm scared," Phillip whimpered, "I'm so, so scared, Phineas, I—"

"I'm here," Barnum murmured, rubbing his back, "I'm here."

"Not forever," Phillip moaned. "You'll - leave me," he whispered, "just like everyone else."

"You know my father left me, don't you?" Barnum sighed. "He was in his mid-fifties, which is much too young to die, don't you think?"

Phillip sniffled, but he managed a nod against the showman's shoulder.

"Life is unpredictable, 'Lip," Barnum murmured. He squeezed the younger man tight, holding him to his chest. "You have no way of knowing whether you'll live to be twenty or fifty or ninety. Hell, had I not run in after you—"

Phillip cringed. Barnum backtracked.

"My point is, you're much too young to trouble yourself over things like that." Phillip briefly lifted his head and Barnum smiled, a soft, sad smile, as he gently traced the younger man's lips. "I'm here, now. In this moment. It's all right."

"Not forever," Phillip whispered. He shuddered.

"No, that's true. But we'll see each other again, even if we have to wait awhile." He squeezed the younger man's waist and kissed him. Phillip tugged on an arm which Barnum lifted and encased the younger man, holding his partner to his chest. When they pulled away, Barnum didn't dare move his arm. Phillip laid his head on his partner's chest, eyelids heavy with exhaustion.

"I'm sorry I kissed Anne," he whispered.

"It's all right. If you want—"

"No." Phillip nestled closer. He closed his eyes, sighed deep, "want you."

"Phil—"

"Only you."

 


	18. Reflection

Prompt 3 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"Why would you hide something like this from me?"

Word Count: 1,017

**Warning: severe self-image issues, implied self-harm**

Title: Reflection

\---

Tears blurred Phillip's eyes as he gazed at himself in the mirror. Shirt off, wearing only shorts, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the angry burns, the scars, marching up and down his body. His arms, his legs, his chest, his face.

He had to stop. Barnum would be home soon, would wonder what the hell he was doing. But he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Disgusting.

He'd already had scars, of course, growing up under his father's roof had left him with plenty. His father, who took pride in the scars he left, who sometimes went as far as making the boy count out every single one before whipping or burning or bruising him, leaving another. He always laughed at the final count, always told Phillip how weak he was, how soft his skin was. Like a woman, he said. So easy to blemish.

And now there were more. More than even his father could dream to inflict.

God, if his father could see him now—

"Phillip?"

The young man _screamed_ , so absorbed in his self-deprecation, he stumbled backward and hit his side on the dresser. He didn't realize it, but fresh tears had escaped his eyes.

"Phillip, what on Earth—"

The ringmaster's voice cut off as his worried eyes trailed up Phillip's body to his tear-filled eyes. Barnum approached him as he would an injured animal, reaching a hand out. Phillip shrank away from the touch.

The younger man had unknowingly backed himself into a corner. Barnum stood a good distance away, but reached out and gently cupped the younger's cheek in his hand. Phillip let out a miserable whine of protest, but didn't turn his face away.

"What were you doing, 'Lip?" Barnum murmured, brown eyes light with concern. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Phillip squeezed his eyes shut and lowered his head. He wrapped his arms around his stomach - a burn on his side flared in protest, but he only squeezed it more, gasping at the fresh wave of pain that flooded his body.

"Stop that!"

Barnum's hands were on his, pulling them away, forcing his arms to be held in front of him. Phillip trembled as he met the ringmaster's eyes.

"How often do you do this?" Barnum murmured. "Stare...at yourself? Mock your scars?"

Phillip was mute.

"Why would you hide something like this from me?" Barnum whispered. He stepped closer and pulled Phillip to his chest - slow so the younger man could pull himself away if he wanted to, but he didn't.

"I'm disgusting," Phillip croaked. The burn on his side throbbed and, almost as if against his own will, he picked at a scar on his hip.

Barnum's hands were on his again, squeezing his wrists. Not hard, but Phillip cried out anyway. "Don't do that."

Phillip's lower lip trembled. Barnum kissed him, swallowing that sob that'd been fixing to escape. The ringmaster guided him over to the bed and lowered them both, hovering over Phillip so the younger man was forced to lie down. When he finally pulled away, Phillip gasped.

"B-Barnum—"

"Shh." The ringmaster lifted one of Phillip's hands and pressed his lips to his partner's wrist. He closed his eyes, keeping still for a moment, before gently lowering the hand so it laid flat on the younger man's belly.

"It hurts when you mess with your scars, doesn't it?" Barnum straddled the man's waist and looked down into the darkest, saddest blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"I like when it hurts..."

"No, you don't. You like the distraction. Your body doesn't want you to hurt yourself, but you ignore it. Why?"

Phillip said nothing, but the tears that rolled down his cheeks, over his ears, spoke for him. Barnum took a deep breath and pressed a hand flat over Phillip's heart. Phillip flinched and he shook his head.

Removing his hand, he grabbed Phillip's. The younger man didn't fight him as he gently pressed the younger man's hand over his own heart.

"Feel that?"

Phillip didn't answer. But a whimper - so tiny, so quiet that he might not have even known he'd done it - made the corner of Barnum's lips twitch.

"As long as you feel that heartbeat, you've got to take care of yourself. Hear me?"

"Why?" Phillip whispered. He tried to push Barnum away and sit up, but the older man sat firm at his waist. "My father didn't give a shit. The fire didn't, either. Why should I?"

"Because, damnit, I do."

Barnum leaned down, running his hand lightly over Phillip's chest. His partner shivered underneath his touch.

"I didn't run into that fire for nothing, Phillip," the ringmaster whispered. He kissed the younger man briefly, lips barely ghosting over his, before straightening up again. He rested his hand against Phillip's smooth, tear-stained cheek. "I don't like it when you hurt yourself."

"Barnum," Phillip cried. He reached up for him and the ringmaster complied, shifting to stretch out across the top of the younger man. Phillip's arms snaked around his neck and when they kissed, he could taste the salt of tears on his partner's lips. When Phillip broke away, he buried his face in the crook of Barnum's neck.

Barnum hovered over Phillip a moment, supporting himself on his arms, before backing off and sitting up again. Phillip clung to him.

"Don't go," he begged.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Barnum got up and approached the mirror. Removing it from the hooks on the wall, he placed it face-down on the top of the dresser.

"Barnum...?"

The ringmaster laid back next to Phillip, curling his arm around the man's slim waist and pulling him close. He laid his forehead against Phillip's and gently rubbed his side, softly ghosting his thumb over a crescent-shaped scar above his hip.

"No words, now. I never want to see you cry in front of that mirror again, you understand?"

Phillip's cheeks were pink as he nodded. Barnum smiled as he kissed him, little pecks that made Phillip sigh each time he pulled away. Once more, he placed his hand flat against the thrum of Phillip's heart.

"You're beautiful, 'Lip. And, so long as this heart beats, I'll spend every day reminding you of it."

 


	19. Drabble - Barlyle coloring

Barlyle coloring:

When Barnum asks Phillip to color with him, Phillip rolls his eyes in exaggeration, but suddenly his stomach is filled with butterflies. He settles down beside Barnum, who is seated on the bedroom floor in his pajamas and has a coloring book open. Not an adult coloring book, a children's one - circus themed. Barnum chuckles and wraps his arms around Phillip's waist, placing a soft, sweet kiss to his neck as Phil reaches for the crayons. A giggle escapes Phillip's lips and Barnum *beams* as he reaches over and starts coloring an elephant purple.


	20. Warmth

Prompt 19 from '60 Barlyle prompts.'

"God, you're such a drama queen."

Word Count: 400

Title: Warmth

**Warning: implied sex, post-sex**

\---

Phillip sighed from beneath the sheets. He laid on his stomach and turned his head as Barnum started to get out of bed, shifting the mattress.

"Don't go," he whined. Barnum stood and went to fetch his robe and a towel.

"I'm just going for a shower, darling. I'll be right back."

Phillip reached out and clutched the older man's hand in his. "I'll _die_ if you leave me," he murmured sleepily, yanking Barnum by the hand.

Barnum chuckled. "God, you're such a drama queen."

He pulled the sheets back as he sat back down and delivered a sharp slap to Phillip's bare ass. Phillip cried out, but the cry quickly fell away into a tired moan.

"That hurt," he whined.

Barnum snorted. "Sure it did. But you can take me just fine, huh?"

Phillip's cheeks burned bright red and he buried his face into the pillow.

"See?" Barnum smirked. "Drama queen. Little liar, too."

"What?" Phillip turned his head and looked up at him.

Barnum grabbed Phillip by the chin, holding his face steady so he couldn't look away. "You aren't as innocent as you look, Phillip, don't you even try."

This time, it was Phillip's turn to smirk. "Says you. I'm an angel."

Barnum grinned. "Sure," he murmured, leaning down to kiss his boy on the lips. The kiss was brief, though, and he pulled away as he stood up.

"You're still leaving?!" Phillip lifted his head and glared at the man's naked back.

"I told you, I gotta take a shower."

"But I'm _cold_ ," Phillip whined. The blanket laid where Barnum had left it - pulled down to Phillip's knees, exposing his upper legs and ass to the chill of the room.

Barnum smirked, a glint in his eye as he looked at his boy from over his shoulder. "You're always free to join me, y'know."

Phillip's eyes widened and lit up. He stood quickly, wincing at the slight pain in his ass.

"Not so tired anymore, are ya?" Barnum teased.

"Shut up," Phillip murmured, taking his lover by the hand as he hurried to their bathroom. He spun around and kissed Barnum, the older man's lips hot against his. "I'm cold," he reminded him, pressing their foreheads together.

Barnum smiled and ran his hands down Phillip's sides. Phillip sighed, pressing himself against Barnum's warm body.

Barnum's voice was husky as he murmured, "let's change that, shall we?"

 


	21. Light Up The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is not part of the 60 Barlyle Prompts and was not requested by anyone. I was listening to Firefly by Ed Sheeran (September 8th, 2017!) and this resulted, so enjoy!!

Title: Light Up The Night

Word Count: 557

Modern AU!

\---

Phillip threw his head back and let out the most delightful laughter Barnum had ever heard in his life. The older man smiled and leaned by his shoulder against the glass door that allowed access into their backyard from the house.

"Ready to go inside?" he teased, knowing what the answer would be.

"No!"

Phillip's eyes sparkled in the moonlight and slightly dewey grass tickled his bare feet. He opened the lid of his jar, releasing the glowing fireflies from their temporary confinement, eyes filled with the wonder of a child as the flickering insects flew by him.

Barnum smiled, eyes crinkling as he watched his boy. He breathed deep in the cool June night.

"Phin!" Phillip whispered. Eyes wide, he looked down at his bare arm where one of the fireflies had taken root. The man actually choked up, tears of happiness filling his eyes as he watched the little insect walk across his arm.

The firefly flew away.

Phillip _beamed_ as he turned to Barnum. The older man barely had time to react before Phillip was grasping his hands, pulling him to the center of the yard. Around them, fireflies danced.

One of the insects flew right by Phillip's ear and his smile lit up the night as he followed it with his eyes.

Barnum had no explanation as to why so many of the little insects had gathered in their yard that night. He only knew that, as soon as Phillip had seen them flickering outside their window, he'd begged his lover to go outside and watch. When Barnum finally caved, Phillip literally pulled the older man outside by the hand, clad in only their pajamas. It was nearing midnight and Barnum himself had been half-asleep, but the sight of his boy reacting to these fireflies like a child seeing snow for the first time had lit a thousand tiny fires in his heart.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Phillip himself, who wrapped his arms around Barnum in an embrace and buried his face into Barnum's chest.

"Thank you," he murmured, looking up, his eyes dark and gleaming.

A small smile played at Barnum's lips, but he did not understand the true meaning of Phillip's words. "For what?" he asked, rubbing the younger man's back.

Phillip stepped away and bowed his head a moment. His eyes followed the path of one of the flickering bugs.

"I love fireflies," he murmured, still watching the little group. "My father would never let me play with them, though - said they were for sissies. Imagine that, an _insect_ , meant for sissies." He scoffed. "When they came out at night during the summer, he'd draw all the blinds in the house so I couldn't look at them."

He lowered his eyes again, stared down at his feet.

Barnum placed both hands on Phillip's cheeks and gently lifted his face up.

"You can play with them for as long as you like from now on," he vowed.

It was a simple thing - being permitted to play with, even _look at_ those little lightning bugs - but Phillip's heart swelled with love nonetheless. He threw his arms around Barnum's neck and pulled him close.

They kissed in the darkness, no light other than the ones from Mother Nature's own natural nightlight. Phillip poured all his love into that kiss, clutching Barnum tight, never wanting to let go.

Around them, fireflies danced.

 


	22. Show Stopper

**Prompt 52 from ‘60 Barlyle prompts.’**

**“I don't know why you put up with me”**

**Word Count: 824**

**Title: Show Stopper**

**implied sex**

**\---**

Phillip Carlyle was an extrovert.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself.

Truth be told, though he worked at the circus and socialized with his parents' upper-class friends at various conventions and get-togethers, Phillip Carlyle was actually a very private person. Conditioned to turn to his plays for any sort of emotional release, he only spoke when spoken to and, though he did work at the circus, the circus was Barnum's. He didn't have an act. He worked behind the scenes, funding, advertising, setting up props.

And that was just the way he liked it.

The roar of the crowd sent chills down his spine, sent his heart thundering in his chest, but only because they were cheering for Barnum. Barnum who, after every show, would meet Phillip backstage and let the younger man show him just how much he appreciated his work. The crowd sent his pulse racing, but only because he knew what was to come in a few short minutes.

So, when Barnum handed over his ringmaster role to Phillip, the younger man thanked him. But on the inside, panic filled his gut. He feared he would get sick right then and there, all over the former ringmaster's vibrant red coat.

On the nights leading up to Phillip's first official show as ringmaster, he barely slept. He tossed, turned, got all tangled up in his sheets. On a few occasions, he ran outside in his sleepwear and bare feet for fear that he would throw up. It rained on one of these occasions and Phillip retreated into his apartment, shivering, wet, half-hoping that he would contract pneumonia and have a proper excuse to miss the show.

He didn't voice a word of these concerns to Barnum or any of the other circus acts.

Finally, the big day came. The whole backstage of the tent was humming with excitement. So much excitement, in fact, that nobody noticed that Phillip Carlyle hadn't said a single word all day.

When Lettie came up to him, smile bright and eyes shining, she squealed, "guess what!"

Phillip gulped. If Lettie noticed, she didn't say anything. "What?"

"Barnum's here!"

"Excuse me?"

His eyes lit up with hope. Maybe Barnum changed his mind. Maybe he wouldn't have to lead the entire show after all.

"He wants to see you perform," Lettie explained, eyes bright, still grinning.

"Oh."

He deflated like a balloon.

"Isn't this great?"

"Yeah...fantastic."

Lettie ambled off, humming to herself. Phillip ached to run, to hide someplace where nobody could find him, maybe drown himself in a couple drinks.

But the show must go on.

Taking a deep breath, Phillip readied himself as the curtains opened. His eyes briefly swept the audience, spotting Barnum seated with his wife and daughters, as he launched into the opening song.

"This is the greatest—!"

His throat closed up. Suddenly gasping for breath, Phillip Carlyle stopped singing. Startled tears sprang to his eyes as he gasped for air, the circus and audience blurring before him. Straight ahead, Barnum's smile vanished and blurred into a twisted, worried frown.

Phillip bolted.

*

Barnum found him hiding in a storage tent.

The sound of footsteps made Phillip flinch. He curled in on himself and hid his face in the coat, refusing to look up at the man who entered the room.

"Are you all right?" Barnum murmured. He knelt down and grasped one of Phillip's hands in his.

"I can't - I c-couldn't—"

"It's all right," Barnum murmured. "Lettie's leading. The audience isn't upset."

"I don't know why you put up with me," Phillip moaned. His lips trembled. Barnum reached up to brush away a tear.

"Why didn't you tell me you were scared?"

"Fear is a - a weakness. You were so eager, I didn't want—"

"Hey." Barnum pulled Phillip closer, encased him in a hug. The younger man clung to his shirt. "Everyone has fears. Remember? Everyone in this circus has fears, Phillip. That's what brought us all together."

"I d-didn't want you to see me as—"

"As what? Human?"

"Pathetic," Phillip whimpered.

Barnum sighed and kissed his forehead. "If there's anything you're not, it's weak, Phillip. You stood up to your father, didn't you?"

"I...I suppose, but—"

"But nothing." Barnum kissed Phillip's nose. The younger man blushed, still clinging to him tight. "It's all right if you don't want to be ringmaster, Phillip. I'm not mad."

"Then who will be ringmaster?"

Barnum smiled and wiped Phillip's tears away with a thumb. "I miss being ringmaster," he admitted. "I can do it so long as I spend time with my girls. No overtime, no more tours."

Phillip gazed at him with eyes full of hope. "You're coming back?"

Barnum smiled. "I'm coming back."

Phillip launched himself at the older man, sighing against his lips as they kissed. Barnum chuckled as he pulled away and toyed at the buttons of his partner's coat.

"I don't suppose you're too shy for—"

Phillip's eyes widened and a coy little smirk played at his lips.

"No. Never."

And so Barnum took him, slow and filled with love, as the audience roared in the background.

 


	23. Drabble - Manners

**implied sexual contact, sexual teasing**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Phillip looks up at Phin, those blue eyes _dark_.

"You know what I want," he whines. He's not begging, yet - he'd rather have Phin fuck him on his hands and knees in front of his parents than _beg_. It's so degrading, so humiliating, so—

Phin trails his hand down his own bare chest. He still has everything on from the waist-down, but his jacket is off, his shirt is opened. He strokes himself through the fabric of his trousers, practically _humming_.

"I could do this all day," he rasps in a whisper.

Phillip moans loudly and squeezes his eyes shut. He can't even look at the man.

" _Look at me, Phillip._ "

Phillip opens his eyes to see Phin crouched in front of him. The ringmaster caresses his cheek with just a thumb, but a whine escapes Phillip's lips as he leans into the touch.

" _Phin_ ," his voice cracks.

"Mmm?"

The man's voice is right in his ear, sends shockwaves down his body. Instead of answering, Phillip attempts to press himself against Phin. His whine practically gives away to a sob as Phin backs away.

"Uh-uh. What'd I just get through explaining to you about _manners_?"

Phillip groans. Phin takes him by the chin and tilts his face up.

"Manners are an important part of being _polite_ , Phillip, darling. You know what happens to boys who forget their manners, don't you?"

Phillip shakes his head, practically quivering.

"Boys who forget their manners are sent to _time out_."

 


	24. Drabble - Curtains Down

**_sexual tension_ **

Phin looks up. The room is dark and empty, save for one person.  
Still bent in a crouch, a smirk curls up at his lips. "Enjoy the show?" he breathes, eyes half-lidded and hazy.  
Phillip swallows a lump in his throat. He can't speak, can't say a word, as he watches Phin trail his gaze down and settle on the bulge in his pants. His smile as he looks up again is _wicked_ , utter filth.  
Phillip's eyes widen.  
Before he can properly get a word out, Phin is on top of him. Pressing his back against the wall, lips rough and wet as he kisses Phillip's lips and trails down his jawline and his neck. He latched on and sucks on a patch of skin as a hand falls and palms Phillip roughly through his pants.  
Phillip moans and his head falls back, thudding lightly against the wall. He gasps as Phin squeezes him and lurches forward with a whimper. Shamelessly, he thrusts into the ringmaster's hand.  
"Phin, _please_."  
Phin grazes his teeth along the skin of his neck and Phillip whines. The sudden attack is too much too soon and his knees buckle. Phin holds him up and a chuckle erupts from deep within his chest.  
"Curtains down," he whispers, pressing close to Phillip.  
The echoes of his moans bounce off the walls, but nobody is there to hear them and, under the dimming lights of the circus room, Phillip surrenders himself to Phineas. The ringmaster's whisper is loud in the hot silence.  
" _Mine_."

 

 


	25. Drabble - Takeover

**rimming, fingering**

The hands are soft, but firm as they press against his thighs. Phineas groans and lolls his head back, but his fingers tangle themselves in Phillip's hair in an attempt to pull the man away.

"Phil," he rasps. He gasps and his thighs tremble as Phillip licks a wet strip between his cheeks. He tries to lower his legs, but Phillip's nails dig into his skin, and he smirks. He'd let Phineas do all the talking.

Phillip presses his tongue to Phin's hole and the man cries out and tries to jerk away. Phillip holds him steady. His face is hot and he whimpers, instinctively lifting his hips to meet Phillip's lips.

Phillip caresses Phin's hip as he finally pulls away, only to look up at Phineas from between his legs. His eyes are dark as he licks his lips and asks, "Like that, do you?"

Phineas can only whimper again. Phillip reaches down and presses a single finger into the ringmaster, humming as he groans. The older man's head falls back as he curls his finger and presses in deep. His other hand digs nails into Phin's hip.

"You're _filthy_ , Mr. Barnum," Phillip whispers. He drags his nails down Phin's hip. Their eyes meet and he grins, curling his finger again. He presses in a second finger to join the first and Phin's groan is louder than before.

Phillip smiles. His free hand moves from Phineas' hip and grasps his cock, and Phineas' cry is sweeter than any of the songs they sing.

"It's my show now," he hums.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was kinda shitty and I can't tell if I like it enough or not. Might take it down later.


	26. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY HELL LOOK WHO HASN'T DONE A PROMPT IN FOREVER
> 
> they're literally MY Prompts, I am a B A D P A R E N T
> 
> Prompt 22 from 60 Barlyle Prompts
> 
> "But what if I fail?"
> 
> (slight timeline manipulation - I know Phillip was in the hospital during Barnum's make up with Charity, but he wasn't in this case~)

**Word Count: 355**

**Title: Reunion**

**\---**

"But what I fail? What if she never wants to see me again?"

Tears welled in Barnum's eyes and Phillip had to take a slight step back, lips just slightly parted. The ringmaster was well dressed in a suit and clutched a single red rose in hand.

"All you can do is try, P.T.," Phillip murmured, resting his hand on the showman's arm. He held onto Barnum for perhaps just a few seconds too long before hastily drawing his hand away, biting his lip. His eyes flicked up to Barnum's face and watched as the man drew in short, gaspy breaths. "Breathe. It's Charity. She loves you."

"I messed up," Barnum whispered. "I - I can't - she won't—"

"Phineas," Phillip snapped. The use of his full name on Phillip's lips shocked the ringmaster and he looked down into the younger man's eyes. "You made a mistake. It was a shitty mistake, yes—"

Barnum flinched.

"—but you're human. You love Charity, you love your girls. If she loves you—"

He paused and swallowed hard.

"—she'll understand."

Taking another deep, calmer breath, Barnum nodded. He started down the road - he and Phillip had walked all the way to the Hallett's home from the Barnum mansion - the rose trembling in his hands. Phillip watched him go, watched him make his way up the porch steps. Tears spilled over from his eyes and down his cheeks, but he forced himself to keep watching as the door opened. He couldn't hear what was being said from his position, but he had eyes. After just a few moments Charity wrapped her arms around Barnum's neck, clutching the rose in one hand. The man hugged her tight and buried his nose in her hair.

Phillip turned away as they kissed and, after wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, started down the road. He felt the faintest of traces of Barnum's fingers on his skin. Barnum touching his arm, his shoulder. The extent of physical contact he'd ever get from the man.

With a shuddering breath and a heavy heart, Phillip turned down the corner without so much as a glance back at the reunited husband and wife.

 


	27. And The Walls Are Closing In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS PROMPT IS 4,012 WORDS
> 
> 4,012 W O R D S
> 
> IT'S THE LONGEST ONESHOT I HAVE EVER WRITTEN. FUCKING LOVE ME.
> 
> Y'ALL BETTER GIVE THIS PROMPT THE ATTENTION IT DAMN WELL DESERVES.

 

**Prompt 1 from 60 Barlyle Prompts**

**“Please don't leave me.”**

**Word Count: 4,012 HOLY SHIT**

**Title: And The Walls Are Closing In**

**\---**

P.T. Barnum was always looking for new ways to make the circus a fresh, exciting experience. As if a singing bearded woman, trapeze acts, and a dog boy weren't enough, he spent nights at home - sometimes, hours at a time - reading over blueprints. Writing, making calls (the man was, of course, always on top of the latest inventions), bragging to anyone and everyone he could about his circus, _The Greatest Show On Earth_ , because he made it that way.

Phillip put up with it. He often found it endearing how full of life the man was - even in the dead of night when most normal people had long since gone to bed - but sometimes it did irk him, just a bit. What irked him the most was the man's habit of climbing out of bed - even on those nights after a coupling, when all Phillip wanted to do was lie close and cuddle - and he wasn't exactly quiet about it, either. But that was what P.T. Barnum did, and, though he did find it annoying sometimes, Phillip loved him for it.

So, all things considered, he shouldn't have been that surprised when P.T. sat up in the middle of the night one night - ignoring Phillip's soft cries of protest and pleas for sleep - and exclaimed, "a platform!"

"What?" Phillip whined. He opened one eye and peered at P.T., who was currently shifting to get off the bed.

"Can't you see it, darling?" His eyes lit up and that knowing smile curled across his lips as he motioned with his hand. "For the shows! The opening song! We can install a platform in the floor, a secret platform to lift me up—"

"Like an elevator?" Phillip murmured, one eye still closed, the other open.

"Yes, yes! Exactly that!"

"Elevators were invented twenty years ago, Phin. I highly doubt they're safe enough to—"

Ignoring him, P.T. grabbed his robe off its hook and slipped into it. Tying it around his waist, he left the room in a flourish, bare feet slapping against the cool wooden floor.

Phillip groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

*

Phillip had thought that, maybe, P.T. had forgotten his ridiculous moving platform idea, but that was not the case. Within just a few days the circus was swarming with new workers who, first, hollowed out a space for the platform to go. Then the platform itself was installed. P.T. had been forced to postpone a few shows, but promised disappointed circus-goers that "something special" was coming to the show. It created buzz around the city and, when Phillip first heard of the news somewhere outside the circus, he was flabbergasted.

"You don't even know if it'll work!" he protested one night. They had just entered the safety of their home and, as P.T. turned to hang up his coat, Phillip approached him with a scowl on his face and his arms crossed over his chest.

P.T. laughed as he turned back around, and ran his hands down Phillip's arms, then his sides. "Relax, darling. It's all going to work out. You'll see."

"Phineas, I really don't think telling people before—"

P.T. quieted Phillip with a kiss to the jaw, then the lips. Phillip gasped, then made a feeble, whining sound in protest - he wasn't through his discussion yet - but then his lips parted and he sighed, reaching up to tangle his fingers into P.T.'s hair. P.T. pulled him closer, strong arms enveloping him, and smiled into the kiss. When they pulled away, Phillip's lips were pouty and swollen, and P.T. chuckled as he ran his finger across the younger man's lower lip.

"How about, instead of arguing, you put that pretty little mouth to a much more...appreciated use?"

Phillip moaned as he was pulled closer once more, and slowly sank to his knees. P.T. smiled and, fisting his hand into Phillip's hair, murmured, "that's a good boy."

Talk of the platform was forgotten.

*

P.T. wanted fog, and lots of it. His vision, he said, was to start off the show by rising onto the platform as he started the first song. The fog would help create the illusion of appearing out of nowhere.

Phillip wasn't sure where the ringmaster had managed to get the dry ice from, but then, he was quickly learning that he needed to stop questioning the man's logic.

But first, before any of that vision could be fulfilled, they needed to rehearse. They tested the moving platform a few times with nobody on it. Afterwards, when it was deemed safe enough for the ringmaster, he tested it himself. It worked fine with him on it too, and managed to hold his weight - first he went down, then up. Down, then up again. They went through rehearsal without any problem - timing was a little bit off on the entrance, but, for the most part, everything worked, and the troupe celebrated.

Phillip smiled and laughed upon watching P.T.'s eyes light up with his success. He couldn't help himself - P.T. had been right after all. When the ringmaster met him backstage, he smirked as he wrapped his arms around Phillip's slim waist.

"What did I tell you?" the ringmaster breathed, nuzzling into Phillip's neck. Phillip sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. "Everything's worked out fine."

"You were right," Phillip admitted, smiling softly as he twirled a strand of hair by P.T.'s ear around his finger. Then, chuckling, he added, "for once."

P.T.'s jaw dropped and Phillip laughed as the older man pulled him closer. Nipping playfully at Phillip's ear, he growled, "I'm always right."

"Sure you are," Phillip smiled. He kissed P.T., soft, but quick, and then gently pulled back. "I've got to help Anne now." He squeezed P.T.'s hand. "I love you."

Smiling, the ringmaster cupped Phillip's cheek in his hand. "I love you, too," he murmured.

His eyes sparkled as Phillip walked away.

*

Taking a deep breath, P.T. left the backstage area and approached the main performance ring once more. The room was empty - Phillip had gone to help Anne with her act and the rest of the troupe had cleared out as well. With the platform successfully installed, that meant that the circus would be up and running again within a few days and they all needed to get back into their rehearsal routines.

There was a switch (that would become invisible when they added fog into the act) that activated the moving platform. P.T. stepped onto the platform himself before pulling the switch. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes as the floor beneath his feet began to lower. The platform stopped at the bottom - there was just enough room for P.T. to step off and tuck away into the corner, if he so desired.

The only light came from above, the main ring. P.T. waited a moment for his eyes to adjust.

_See? This isn't so bad. This was a good idea. There's nothing to worry about._

P.T. took a shuddering breath and willed himself to relax. He never liked small spaces, not even as a boy. It was a silly fear, though. Extremely childish. The moving platform had been an extra act for the circus, sure, an extra illusion, but it was also P.T.'s secretive way of trying to overcome this fear that had haunted him ever since he'd been a child. Having mainly grown up on the streets, then the railroad, P.T. was used to wide, open spaces. He was used to light and freedom. Dark, enclosed spaces made his heart race, made his hands shake.

But this - this was fine.

P.T. took another deep breath, calmer this time. He was forced to hunch over in the small space, but he closed his eyes and willed himself to take a step forward.

Then he stepped off the platform.

*

W.D. grumbled as he marched into the main performance area. How was he supposed to know that Charles would fall off the horse and—?

W.D. paused. He frowned at the open space in the floor. Looking around, he didn't see anyone - he was alone, no Phillip or P.T. in sight - and he sighed as he marched forward and pulled the lever for the platform to come up.

It rose, empty.

"Now where's that damn ice?" he sighed to himself as he wandered out of the performance ring.

*

P.T. heard the platform rise before he could register the fact that he was suddenly shrouded in complete, utter darkness. When he stumbled forward and realized that the platform was indeed gone, his face drained of color and he screamed.

"Help me!" he cried. "Somebody, please!"

P.T. was still forced to hunch over as he raised his hands and pressed against the bottom of the platform. No luck. Even if he could move it somehow, he wasn't entirely sure he'd be able to from his angle.

 _"Help me!"_ he screamed again. He didn't realize he'd already begun to cry until he felt the hot tears roll down his face. "Phillip? Anne? Somebody!"

No answer.

P.T. craned his head back, but all he could see was darkness, the bottom of the platform merely shadowed in the lack of light. He brought shaking hands up to his face and could only see the outlines of those, too - he couldn't even make out the shape of each individual finger.

P.T. screamed again and rose his hands to pound on the bottom of the platform, but all that did was hurt and possibly splinter his knuckles. Whimpering, he cradled his hand to his chest and retreated to the corner like a wounded animal. Pressing his back to the wall, he slid down and pressed his wrists to his eyes.

_Maybe if he imagined bright, open fields, it'd all go away..._

*

"Has anyone seen P.T.?" Phillip asked. Afternoon was turning into evening and most of the acts were wrapping up rehearsal for the day, but Phillip hadn't seen Phin for... how long now? A few hours, three, maybe four. He was starting to get a little worried, truth be told, and stopped a few of the acts on the way out.

One of the albino twins shrugged and the dog boy scratched his head. Anne pursed her lips together.

"Not since this afternoon. Want me to help you look?" she offered.

"No—," Phillip started to say. But then he paused. "I - could you?" he whispered.

Anne smiled, and nodded. She parted ways with her brother.

"It's probably nothing," Phillip rambled. "Knowing him, he's planning something somewhere. and he'll tease me for sending a search party after him." He rolled his eyes. But inside, his stomach twisted into knots.

"I'm happy to help," Anne assured him, gently squeezing his shoulder. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but having her there actually helped a lot.

Once the other acts cleared out and left them alone, Phillip sighed shakily and ran a hand through his hair.

"Barnum?" Phillip called out. His voice carried down the empty building as he walked down the hall, Anne following close behind. No answer.

He'd checked P.T.'s office before speaking with the other oddities, but he checked it again. There was nobody inside and the paperwork on P.T.'s desk looked like it hadn't been touched.

Frowning, Phillip carried on down the hall - Anne followed him, silent, allowing him to take the lead - and entered the main circus ring. The seats were empty - it had been odd not performing and hearing the stunned cries of the circus-goers the past few days, but they'd be starting up again soon - and the area overall, seemed relatively clean. They hadn't used the main ring much for practicing and so the last ones to have been in the room were...

He and P.T. Right before they went backstage and right before Phillip went off to help Anne. They'd been together because—

—because Barnum had been testing out the new platform.

"P.T.?" Phillip murmured as he approached the movable bit of the floor. Anne rose an eyebrow as she watched him.

There was no answer so Phillip cleared his throat and spoke a little louder. "P.T.? Phineas?"

Still no answer. And yet, something told him—

Hurriedly, Phillip pulled the lever and held his breath. The platform lowered and, as soon as it did, Phillip heard the unmistakable sound of sobs filling the air.

"Phineas!" Phillip cried. "Are you down there?"

He got no direct verbal response breath, but a slight reaction - a catch in the sobs - had Phillip on his hands and knees in an instant. He leaned forward and - there. Hunched in the shadowy corner, there was—

Scrambling to his feet, he turned to Anne. "Can you pull the lever? When I - we - need to come up again?"

Anne nodded.

Phillip pulled the lever again and the platform rose back up. A startled cry - more like one on the verge on a scream - pierced his ears and he cringed as he stepped onto the platform and lowered himself down. As soon as the platform hit solid ground again, he was off and kneeling by P.T.'s side.

"Phin," he whispered, encircling his arms around the older man. P.T. still had his hands pressed to his eyes - Phillip could make out nasty scratches on the ringmaster’s knuckles in the dim light - and rocked back and forth in Phillip's hold. "Oh God, Phineas, how long have you been down here?"

P.T. could make no verbal answer. He felt something - someone - by his side, felt familiar, loving arms around him, and felt himself being pulled into a firm chest that rose and fell with steady breaths. He smelt the familiar cologne and a voice whispered at the back his mind - _Phillip_. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remove his hands from his eyes, and he couldn't speak. His tongue laid dry and heavy in his mouth. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks and stung already-raw eyes.

Gentle hands wrapped themselves around his wrists and pulled his hands from his face. P.T.'s eyes were still closed, but he forced them open.

He flinched. His eyes were red, raw, and ached from being forced shut for - how long? It had felt like years being trapped in that tiny little space beneath the ring, but certainly - was the day over yet?

But through his aching, burning eyes, P.T.... found the space to no longer be dark. It was still dim and it was still small, but light poured in from above - the platform was on the floor at his feet - and his lips parted as he met familiar, concerned, loving eyes.

Phillip.

"Hey," Phillip whispered. He stroked P.T.'s hair and cheeks, and held the older man's red, teary face in his hands. He gently pulled P.T. forward and nestled the ringmaster's face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. He used one hand to rub slow, soothing circles into P.T.'s back - the man still shook and shuddered with every breath. "What happened?" he whispered. "How long have you been stuck down here?"

"I - I - I—" P.T. gasped. His throat burned and ached even worse with the strain of talking.

"Shhh." Phillip pulled him closer - at this point, the taller, heavier ringmaster practically sat in his lap, but he didn't care - and kissed his forehead. P.T. whimpered. "Don't force yourself to speak, please. It's all right. I've got you."

_I've got you._

He looked up at the rectangle of light, then back down at the platform by their feet. Glancing at P.T., he murmured, "We need to get you out of here."

 _"N-No!"_ the ringmaster shrieked - his first coherent word since his rescue. His hand shot out and wrapped around Phillip's wrist. "Pl-Please," he gasped, using tremendous energy to force the simple words out of his mouth, "don't l-leave me," he sobbed, voice cracking. Fresh tears rolled down his face.

"Phin," Phillip whispered. He leaned forward and softly brushed his lips against the ringmaster's - P.T.'s lips trembled and tasted of salt. He pulled away. "I'm right here," he assured him. Reaching down, he interlaced his fingers with P.T.'s, "but we need to get you out of here, all right?"

P.T. stared at him, eyes blown wide. He didn't answer, but Phillip chose not to take his silence as an objection.

"We need to get you on that platform," he murmured, pointing at the ground, "but we can only fit one of us on it at a time, so—"

 _"NO!"_ P.T. gasped in a shrill wail. It was so unlike P.T. that it sent a shudder down Phillip's back. "Don't leave me down here, don't, don't, please, I—"

"Hey," Phillip interrupted. Once again, he grasped P.T.'s hands in his. "You're going to go up before me, all right? You're going to get up there safely and there's going to be light and you're going to be all right."

"W-Who's gonna—"

"Anne's up there." Phillip pointed and, at the sound of her name, Anne poked her head over the edge. She waved down at P.T., but P.T. - whose panicked state practically had him reduced, mentally, down to that of a toddler - buried his face in Phillip's shoulder. Phillip made no comment, no snide remark, and only rubbed his back as he spoke. "She's going to pull the lever and get us up, all right?"

"D-Don't leave me," P.T. moaned.

"I'm not going anywhere," Phillip promised, voice soft. He kissed P.T. again and laid his forehead against the older man's. "I love you."

P.T. stared at him, eyes wide.

"Ph-Phillip," he whispered.

"I'm here," Phillip repeated.

Once P.T. seemed to calm down a little and accept that Phillip would not leave him, Phillip helped him onto the platform - he hugged his knees to his chest, curling in a ball upon himself - and called up to Anne. After a moment, the platform started to move.

Phillip was concealed in temporary darkness. His breathing remained deep and even, but his heart broke for P.T. - how maddening it must have been to be trapped down here for _hours_.

After a few moments, the platform moved again and Phillip could see. Once it was on the ground, he climbed on and called for Anne to lift him up.

Moments later, he was on the floor with P.T., holding him again, kissing tear-stained cheeks.

"See? We're out," he murmured, running his fingers through P.T.'s hair. "We're out, I've got you."

Phillip heard footsteps then and, though he didn't look up, he knew Anne was leaving. She didn't want to see their ringmaster like that, didn't want to intrude on Phillip consoling P.T. He silently thanked the girl for her help as he held P.T. close and continued to murmur assuring things in his ear.

"C'mon," he whispered, grasping P.T.'s hand. "Let's go home."

*

Phillip helped P.T. out of his clothes and into pajamas. The man was still in a sort of shock and Phillip murmured quietly to him as he helped P.T. put on a shirt, then pajama pants.

"I understand why you were so scared," Phillip assured him, showering the older man with soft, caressing touches in an attempt to help him relax. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Phin."

P.T. made a soft whimpering sound as Phillip helped him lie down. The younger man soon followed and pulled P.T. close. They laid with P.T.'s back to Phillip's chest, but P.T. - too uncomfortable lying in the direction of the dark, blank wall - shifted and turned to lie face-to-face with his partner.

Phillip smiled and reached out to softly caress P.T.'s cheek. "Hey, you."

Phillip hugged him close, held him tight, and P.T. tried to will his mind to relax. He was safe in bed with Phillip. Phillip, who came to rescue him with Anne. Phillip, who made sure they both got out all right.

"I don't like small spaces," P.T. whispered. Tears clipped his voice, but it was the first coherent sentence he'd spoken since arriving back at home.

Phillip's arms tightened around him. He started rubbing P.T.'s back again and P.T. tried to focus on breathing.

"The streets, the railroad - they were always o-open - no dark, tight spaces, n-no—"

Anxiety built in the pit of his stomach again at the recollection of being trapped by the platform and, as if sensing the increased speed of P.T.'s heartbeat, Phillip immediately shushed him.

"You don't have to explain," Phillip told him. He traced the outline of P.T.'s face with his thumb, coming to stop at the man's lips. P.T. closed his eyes, tears wettening his lashes. "It's over now. You don't ever have to go down into that space again." Then he repeated that familiar mantra, those three words that P.T. had latched onto since first climbing out of the crawl space with Phillip. "I've got you."

"Phil—"

"Sleep," Phillip murmured. He drew P.T. closer, coaxed P.T. to lie his head on his chest. P.T.'s lips parted, wanting to say something else, but he thought better of it and closed his eyes.

And sleep he did.

*

The cheers of the crowd were almost deafeningly loud as the ringmaster rose up from the floor and, as the fog began to clear, started singing the lyrics to the oh-so-familiar opening song.

_"Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for..."_

P.T. watched in awe as Phillip performed his song, marching around the stage as if he owned it. A familiar stirring of want erupted in the pit of his stomach as he watched the younger man sing the lyrics originally meant for P.T.'s voice. When the song ended, Phillip bowed and hurried out of the main ring, handing the show off to the other waiting, eager acts.

P.T. met him backstage and captured him in a hug. He spun the younger man around and kissed him, removing Phillip's top hat from atop his head.

"You did so well," P.T. murmured when they pulled away. Phillip beamed up at him, eyes sparkling, and he sighed. His eyes flicked over to the platform that Phillip had used to start off the show. "I only wish I could—"

"Hey," Phillip commanded. He cupped P.T.'s cheek in his hand, forcing the man to look at him. "What did I tell you? You don't ever have to go down into that space again."

P.T. smiled wistfully and lowered his eyes. Phillip reached up on tiptoe to kiss him, cupping the man's face in his hands.

Upon hearing his next cue, Phillip pulled away and kissed P.T. on the cheek.

"I'll come back here later," he promised.

Then he ran off, and P.T. smiled with love and pride as he watched his boy come alive upon the very stage P.T. himself had come undone.

 


	28. Drabble - The Taste of Your Lips

Phin smirks down at Phillip, straddling his waist. Phillip moans as the tip of the strawberry, dipped in rich chocolate, touches his lips, and opens his mouth. Phin hums.

"Beautiful," he murmurs. He lowers the strawberry and Phillip bites down, juice dribbling down his lips and chin.

He leans down and meets Phillip in a kiss, the taste of strawberries exploding in his mouth, on his tongue. Phillip moans into the kiss and Phin wipes the corner of the younger man's mouth, collecting a droplet of juice, as he pulls away. He sticks his finger in his mouth and sighs, closing his eyes.

"Like a work of art."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes the title is a lyrics reference
> 
> 2\. This was stupid and impulsive and cliche sooooo might delete later idk


	29. Drabble - Feel The Feeling Taking Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, NSFW lil thing :)

**NSFW!**

Phineas moaned, arching his back. His fingers found leverage in Phillip's hair, and the younger man sighed.

"Come for me, Phin," Phillip groaned, hand gripping his partner's cock. One last thrust of his hips and Phineas jerked, calling out Phillip's name as he spilled over their skin.

Phillip's own release was lost to Phineas as he rode out his orgasm, but the feeling of being emptied into spilled out a noise he almost wasn't even aware of making. Phillip remained in Phineas and kissed heated, red cheeks.

Phineas drifted away to the murmurs of Phillip's love. He fell asleep with a final sigh on his lips and Phillip clutching him tight.

 


	30. The Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P.T. has one item he saved from his childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little belated thing for Mother's Day!

**Happy belated Mother's Day!**

**Word Count: 4,300**

**Title: The Photograph**

**\---**

_"Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word." —George R.R. Martin_

It was raining.

That was the first sign something was wrong.

P.T. hated rain. He preferred the sun - the brighter, the better. It didn't storm, but the drizzle outside was almost worse. Thunderstorms had personality, at least - low thunder that rumbled and roared, lightning that lit up the room - no matter where you were - for the briefest of instants. But the rain outside was simply... mush. It was lazy, dreary rain that served no purpose other than to muddy the world and cast the Barnum home in a gray, depressing light.

P.T. was missing.

That was the second sign something was wrong.

The ringmaster was loud. The ringmaster was loud and full of life and seemed to never tire, not even for a moment. Phillip loved it. Phillip loved _him_. He loved the way P.T. always felt the need to brighten the little world they lived in with bigger-than-life ideas. He loved the way the ringmaster himself radiated love - whether it was for himself (in a way that some people would mistakingly describe as selfish), the circus troupe, or Phillip. Whether they were together in bed - Phillip moaning underneath the older man, either with love and soft caresses, or in a way that was absolutely filthy as the ringmaster forced him to beg for the ultimate ecstasy - or whether it was through the soft, casual touches and loving words that P.T. would rain upon him throughout the day. P.T. loved Phillip in a way that left him overcome with emotion - he loved him in a way that, for just a moment, made Phillip forget the hellish background in which he had been raised.

P.T. loved Phillip in a way that made him believe he was _worthy_ of it.

P.T. was loud. P.T. was full of life. P.T. never failed to make anyone and everyone around him feel like the single most important person in the world.

But it was raining.

It was raining and P.T. was missing.

The Barnum home was massive, but it seemed even bigger with the dark, lonesome shadows that the gray clouds outside cast onto the walls. Phillip shivered - they'd woken up to the rain (for once, they'd woken at the same time - P.T. usually rose much earlier than he) and Phillip had been the first to go downstairs to prepare breakfast. P.T. had promised to join him in just a few minutes, but several had gone by and there was still no sign of the man that had swept the young playwright off his feet.

"Phineas?" Phillip called. His voice rattled and bounced off the walls, almost seeming to echo.

No answer.

Phillip shivered again and wrapped his arms around himself as he walked. He wore but a pair of pajama pants, his robe, and a pair of slippers. Perhaps he was imagining things, but he could have sworn there was a draft coming in with the rain. He thought, maybe, that P.T. had left a window open - though, that seemed very out of character for the brilliant circus king. He always busied himself with new ideas, always carried an excited energy about him, but that didn't mean the man was sloppy. In fact, he was anything but. Sure, his desk might be messy, he might occasionally button up his shirt the wrong way, but he wasn't sloppy. Personal care was one thing, but when it came to the betterment of others - whether it was the circus or Phillip - he handled everything with great care. He would never leave a window open because that could mean a protestor had opportunity to break in, or Phillip could catch a cold, or—

Or Phillip was overreacting. A window wasn't open because there wasn't a draft and he had only imagined a brush of cold air because where the hell was Phineas.

And why couldn't he shake the dark, unsettling feeling that nagged at the back of his mind, insisting something was wrong?

"P.T.? Phineas?" he called again.

Just as before, there was no answer.

Almost subconsciously, Phillip paused in the middle of the hallway and let his gaze drift up the long, sprawling staircase. His eyebrows furrowed together as he stared up to the second floor. Now that he thought about it, had he even heard the man come downstairs?

Still looking upwards, Phillip approached the staircase. He called the ringmaster's name again, but, just as before, got no answer. He climbed the stairs and found the upstairs to be just as dark - if not darker, even - and silent as the floor below.

He tried their room, but P.T. was gone. Their bed was unmade, just as Phillip had left it before going downstairs, and P.T.'s robe was gone, too. So he'd moved, at least. But, again, Phillip couldn't remember hearing him come downstairs - he had to be up here somewhere.

He passed several closed doors - the rooms of Caroline and Helen, who had left with their mother after the Jenny Lind incident. Little had they known, then, that it would be Phillip the ringmaster turned to, not another woman.

Caroline and Helen were still permitted to visit on some weekends - only then would their doors be open, their rooms filled with the sounds of laughter. Phillip and P.T. were careful to stay apart on those days - most of the time, Phillip would find it safest to simply go back to his now mostly-abandoned apartment. P.T. also got to see the girls during nights that Caroline had ballet recitals, which brought back memories of the place where he had laid eyes on Phillip Carlyle for the first time.

Other doors were closed, leading only to empty rooms - the guest bedroom (where Phillip "stayed" on the rare occurrence that he decided to stay during one of the girls' visits), the library, the playroom. He only paused once coming to the closed door at the very end of the hall.

P.T.'s home office.

The door was closed, just as all of the others before were closed, but it did not simply swing open to reveal an empty room. Instead, when Phillip tested the doorknob, he found the door to be locked.

Breath hitching in his throat, Phillip rose his fist to knock. However, he hesitated, just a moment - he was sure P.T. would be fine, just absorbed in his work, but... suppose something really was wrong? Did he really want to alert P.T. of his presence, give the man a chance to hide or clean up or—

Or...what? What exactly did Phillip think he was doing in there?

Staring at the door for another moment, Phillip's hand dropped to his side. He stood on tiptoe - how humiliating it was sometimes, to need to extra boost to reach things, but this time he didn't have the ringmaster's teasing words and pleasant laughter ringing in his ears - and felt above the doorframe. His fingers wrapped around the object he was in search of - a key - and he lowered himself flat onto his feet once more.

He wondered, perhaps, if P.T. had forgotten about the spare key. They'd agreed upon it mutually - the man had a tendency of getting lost in his ideas for hours at a time and when he locked himself in his office, as he often did, Phillip needed a way to bring him back to reality, if necessary. Sometimes a simple rattling of the doorknob, a mere presence in the room was enough, but other times - well, sometimes Phillip had to bait the man away from his work with more... pleasing measures.

The doorknob twisted, successfully unlocking with the key, and Phillip pushed the door open. He immediately shivered upon entering the room and, eyes flickering over to the wall, discovered that there was, in fact, a window open.

The next thing Phillip noticed was P.T., hunched over in his seat and staring at something down on his desk.

Phillip sighed heavily (though, secretly, he was actually relieved) and he rolled his eyes as he crossed the room to close the window. The frame around it was wet with raindrops and he shivered again at the cold breeze that came through, chilling the entire room. "Are you telling me you neglected to join me for breakfast over the matter of paperwork?"

P.T. was silent.

Phillip frowned as he turned toward the ringmaster. He leaned against the wall and rested a hand on his hip, almost unaware that he was doing it. "Phineas?"

The ringmaster shuddered - the only sign that he even acknowledged Phillip was in the room - but remained silent. Phillip's hand fell from his hip and he strode over to the ringmaster, delivering a light touch to the older man's shoulder.

P.T. shrank away and turned his back on the playwright.

Phillip's lips parted in shock and he fumbled for words. "Wh - What's wrong? Did I...do something?"

His brain wracked for anything he could have done to offend the ringmaster, but came up totally blank. P.T. wasn't one to hold grudges - surely he would have told Phillip if something he'd done bothered him?

"Phineas... talk to me? Please?"

He knelt down in front of the ringmaster - a familiar position, though this time it was out of concern, not lust. P.T. continued to stare down at the object in hand - Phillip could tell that it had to be a photograph or painting or drawing of some sort, though he wasn't sure of what. The ringmaster jerked away again when he reached out, but not before he saw the tears shining on the older man's face.

"Phineas, are you... crying?"

Voice clipped with alarm, the worry and fear that had dwindled away upon finding the ringmaster came back full force. Phillip steadied himself on his knees at P.T.'s side, and rested a hand on the older man's thigh. Now that he had seen the tears, he could hear them - the noise was barely there, but P.T.'s breath hitched with near-silent sobs and his chest trembled with the effort of holding them back. Confusion overwhelmed the younger man.

"Please," he whispered again. His voice cracked and made him cringe - he sounded nothing like Phillip Carlyle, the man with the voice that P.T. often teased as being 'too posh.' "Talk to me."

Without even realizing it, Phillip had started to trace small circles into P.T.'s thigh. The strong muscle underneath quivered and the ringmaster seemed to have stilled, but tension held tight throughout his entire body. Phillip looked down at the floor, then up at the ringmaster again as he whispered, "I don't like seeing you like this."

P.T.'s sigh was loud, almost thunderous compared to how silent he'd been up until that point. He tried to hold back, but his voice was thick with emotion as he choked out, "You - You weren't supposed to."

Tears brimmed in Phillip's eyes - it killed him that P.T. thought he had to hide his emotion. He didn't know what was bringing the ringmaster such distress, but he rose to his feet and slipped behind P.T.'s chair. The ringmaster gasped when he felt the young man's strong hands on his neck and shoulders, slowly massaging, and he tried to pull away, to stand, but Phillip pressed a hand to the front of his shoulder, pushing him back. He didn't have any strong force from his angle, but P.T. fell back anyway. His cries became louder and his body shuddered with them more openly. Phillip's gut twisted, and he peered down at the item still clutched in P.T.'s hands.

It was a photograph. It was yellowed and faded with age - it had to have been taken using the earliest of cameras - but the woman in it stared up at him with a sweet face and eyes that were not unkind. It was hard to tell, but she appeared to have P.T.'s wavy locks of hair.

"Who is that?"

Phillip's voice was a hum in P.T.'s ear, like the most delectable drop of honey. P.T. sighed again and closed his eyes, lashes wet with tears. He slumped in his chair, startling Phillip.

He'd never seen the man look so... defeated.

"Her name was Irene," P.T. murmured in a voice so quiet, so unlike himself, that Phillip strained to hear him. "She is - _was_ \- my mother. She...passed when I was a boy."

His words took a moment to sink in.

"Oh, Phin," Phillip breathed. His hands fell from P.T.'s shoulders and he shuffled to P.T.'s front once more. He lowered himself to the ground again, grasping P.T.'s hands in his. "She's still your mother," he insisted, rubbing the palm of P.T.'s hand with his thumb, "no matter how or when she passed away."

P.T.'s lower lip quivered, like a boy, and he laughed at himself as the tears came more rapidly. He wanted to wipe the offending wetness from his cheeks, but Phillip still grasped the older man's hands in his.

"It's ridiculous," the ringmaster muttered, shaking his head. "I'm a grown man. She's been gone longer than you've been alive. I can't - I shouldn't be—"

His voice broke and he broke his hands free of Phillip's hold, covering his face. The office door was still open and his sobs carried down the hallway of the otherwise empty mansion.

Phillip felt guilt as he sat there and watched a man fifteen years his senior cry. P.T. knew all about his less than ideal childhood - his father who beat him and his mother who never made an effort to stop him. _She_ certainly wasn't worth crying over, and never would be, not even when she died.

He'd known P.T. must have had a mother - by logic, if nothing else - but the ringmaster never spoke of her and Phillip had... never bothered to ask. Perhaps he'd convinced himself that since _his_ parents were terrible, all parents had to be.

But then, weren't Caroline and Helen always filled with life whenever they saw their father? P.T. was not a terrible parent - far from it. In fact, Phillip would even consider him the epitome of what a good parent should be. He didn't find it surprising that P.T. had been blessed with an excellent father, who tried to provide as much as he could for his son, even while living on the streets and on his deathbed. By that logic, then, he shouldn't have been surprised to know that P.T.'s mother was an equally wonderful woman - a woman who _was_ worth crying for.

And yet, he had never bothered to ask.

"Oh God, Phineas," Phillip choked. He gently took the photograph from P.T. - he let Phillip have it without protest - and stared down at the face of the woman who had given P.T., the loud, incredible, _beautiful_ man that he loved, life. She stared up at him with eyes that sparkled, almost as if hinting that she knew of his love for her son. He shivered - not from the cold, this time - and set the photograph on the ringmaster's desk.

When he turned to P.T., he settled himself in the ringmaster's lap and pulled him closer. P.T. buried his face in Phillip's shoulder and Phillip struggled not to let the older man see his own tears. He felt terrible for never realizing how much he missed her, holding back his feelings even after all this time, and he ran his fingers through P.T.'s hair in an attempt to soothe him.

"Tell me about her," he encouraged in a whisper. He kissed P.T.'s forehead as the man looked up, his eyes red-rimmed.

Thunder roared outside - Phillip had failed to notice the storm getting stronger - and P.T. jumped. Phillip clung to him tight, alarmed to feel that he had started to tremble and shake again.

"Phin," he whispered, holding him, sliding one hand down to hold P.T.'s hand. "It's all right. It's just thunder."

"It rained," P.T. said. Phillip used his free hand to wipe at the man's tears as he spoke. "It rained the... the night she died."

Suddenly, the man's strong dislike of rain made much more sense. Phillip lowered his eyes again, ashamed. He'd never known that about P.T., but if he had quit thinking about himself and just asked—

"It was raining and I...I was w-with her. Alone. We were waiting for help, waiting for Papa to come back from the storm, but..."

The way he said 'Papa' made Phillip shudder - the man fifteen years his senior suddenly sounded like a scared eight year old boy again. He lifted P.T.'s face and kissed his cheeks, his nose. He tasted the salt of the older man's tears and closed his eyes, pulling away just slightly to ask his next question.

"How?" he whispered. "How did she—"

P.T. yanked away (Phillip heard a _thud_ as he banged his leg against his desk) and shook his head violently. Eyes wide and alarmed, Phillip tried to get him to calm down.

"It's okay," he assured P.T., "you don't have to talk about it. I promise. I'm sorry for asking. Please, it's all right."

He nuzzled his face into P.T.'s neck and kissed the soft skin there. P.T.'s hands shook as he brought them up to Phillip's back, holding him to his chest. The younger man could feel the trembling fingers through his shirt and cuddled closer. P.T. still had tears on his face, his hands still trembled, but his breathing slowly evened out as he focused on the task of talking.

"The cabin we lived in burned down shortly after she - after she died," he confessed. "Papa and I were left with... left with nothing."

Phillip inhaled sharply. P.T. had never mentioned anything about a _first_ fire.

He lost it, then, and began to cry. Startled, P.T. jerked back and held him at arm's length, his own eyes still watery.

"Phillip, darling, what are you—"

"I'm sorry," Phillip choked. "I'm sorry for crying, when this should be about you. But I - oh God, _Phineas_."

"Wh-What—?"

"Everything!" Phillip cried. He hid his face in P.T.'s chest, too afraid to look at him. "You know all about my parents. All about the hell that I—"

He realized that he was derailing, about to make it all about him again, and quickly backtracked.

"But you've never talked about your mother," Phillip whispered. He turned his head to the side and stared at the wall, still too cowardly to look up into P.T.'s eyes. "Truth be told, I'd practically forgotten the thought of you even having one. I'm so sorry. I—"

"Phillip—"

"No! Don't make excuses for me, Phineas, please. I've been self-absorbed and selfish about my own childhood, I don't - I didn't—"

"Phil—"

"I didn't - I didn't even know her _name_ before today, P.T. I'm sorry."

"It's not that big a deal," P.T. whispered. "It's all right, Phillip. You just - you just caught me at a... bad time. You weren't supposed to see—"

"Not a big deal?" Phillip's voice cracked again and he winced, but forced himself to look up at the ringmaster. "P.T., you were _orphaned_ by the time you were fifteen."

P.T. flinched. It was quick, it was slight - but it was there.

And it devastated Phillip Carlyle beyond words.

"I'm so sorry," Phillip whispered. Shakily, he got out of P.T.'s lap. "I - I should have realized how much you were bottling up inside." He wiped at his eyes. He hated the fact that he was crying, making this all about him yet again. "P.T., you deserve - you deserve someone so much better."

"What are you... What are you saying, Phillip?"

"I didn't even know her _name_ ," Phillip choked. "P.T., I love you, but I - I didn't even know your mother's name. I didn't know that you lived in a cabin. I didn't - I didn't..." His words trailed off and the room swirled around him. He shook his head, attempting to regain focus. "P.T., you deserve... you deserve someone who isn't so... so _fucking_ ,"

P.T.'s eyes widened. Outside of their couplings, he'd never heard Phillip cuss before.

"absorbed in himself that he can't tell when the l-love of his life is hurting. You d-deserve..."

Phillip paused. He pressed a hand to his forehead as he took a deep breath.

"You deserve someone that can light up your world just as much as you can light up mine," he finished in a whisper.

Phillip turned away, finally letting the tears fall as he approached the doorway. His head hurt like hell - he needed a goddamn drink. But before he could even leave the office, he felt a hand around his arm, pulling him back.

"What did you call me?" P.T. breathed as he pulled Phillip against his chest. His eyes were still teary, but he managed a small, wobbly smile as Phillip turned to face him.

"I—" Phillip fumbled for speech, managing to choke over the words. What a perfect playwright he was. "Phineas, I d-don't—"

"Phillip," P.T. started, holding the younger man's face with love and tenderness. Phillip's eyes were dark and wide as he looked up at him. "Any man... any man that calls you the love of his life deserves complete and total honesty."

P.T. kissed him then, his lips soft and warm against Phillip's. Phillip closed his eyes and clung to P.T. tight, never wanting to let go, not even when they pulled away.

"I'm sorry for not telling you about my mother," the ringmaster spoke, running a finger underneath one of Phillip's red-rimmed eyes. His eyes looked like a hazel duplicate. "It wasn't because of you, Phillip. Please get that silly idea out of your head."

"You're the one with the silly ideas," Phillip muttered. Despite himself, P.T. grinned. But the grin quickly fell and he sighed as he glanced over at the picture once more.

"That picture is the one thing we managed to save from the fire, and that's only because it was used for her funeral."

"You remember her funeral?" Phillip asked.

P.T. nodded. "There are... things that I've never been open about with anyone," he admitted, "not even Charity. After my father died, it was just me and my mother's picture for the longest time and I kept the closest, most personal things to myself. The circus helped open me up some, but... some things are buried deep inside for so long that you just can't bear to bring them out into the open again. Not even when you have a pretty, blue-eyed apprentice,"

" _Partner_ ," Phillip scowled.

"ready and willing to listen," P.T. finished, grinning. He pulled Phillip closer and inhaled deep as he buried his nose in the younger man's hair.

"Still," Phillip sighed, stepping back. "I... I focus too much on myself, and I'm sorry. You've never liked the rain. I should've noticed—"

"Today," P.T. interrupted with a sigh. He stared down at the floor, "is the anniversary of her... her passing."

Phillip's eyes widened. P.T. looked up at his horror-stricken expression and nodded.

"That's why I... didn't come down for breakfast. I'm sorry. I know it's an unhealthy way to cope, but - well, you've always had an outlet for pain, Phillip. You have your plays and the ability to bleed on paper. My... matters are much too dreary for the circus to deal with."

P.T. looked down again, despite himself. Phillip's expression softened and he reached out, grasping P.T.'s hand in his.

"You have me," he promised. "From now on - you have me."

P.T.'s smile then was the most heartwarming thing Phillip Carlyle had seen in his life. The ringmaster sat in his chair again and gently picked up the picture of his mother. Phillip lowered himself into the showman's lap and laid his head on his shoulder.

"Tell me about her," he requested.

And so P.T. did.

***

The next time it rained, Phillip was prepared. Thunder roared and crackled outside as they ate hot breakfast in bed.

Afterwards, P.T. laid with his head on Phillip's bare shoulder as he spoke of the wooden toys and little knick-knacks his mother used to make him.

 


	31. Author's Note (not a prompt)

I’ve decided to write something for Barlyle and, even though it will involve the two gay circus dads, I think it’ll be more raw and real than anything I’ve ever written (for this fandom) before - it’s going to hit very close to home for me, and I hope it’ll help educate this fandom on something that I know most of you have never heard of, or had to experience, before. It’s just a oneshot, but I’m not sure how long it’s going to be - it *might* very well be longer than anything I’ve ever written before, though I can’t quite predict that yet. It’s going to take some time to write, I think, but I plan on starting tonight. Hopefully I can… stick to it.


	32. a little Christmas drabble

A thought:

Phillip never celebrated Christmas as a kid. Sure, he went to church because his parents made him, but that was more-or-less it. His family never spent the holiday together and he never received gifts from “Santa.” (except for on the rare occasion where his mother decided to be generous and sneak him a single gift behind his father’s back).

He and Phin are together by the time Christmas comes around, and a few weeks ago he let it slip to P.T. that he’s never truly celebrated. Which is *astonishing* to P.T. because, though they never had much money, his father always found a way to make Christmas memorable up until the year he died. And, as an adult, P.T. carried on the holiday tradition, spoiling his girls with whatever money they could spare.

Phillip wakes up on Christmas morning to an entire celebration brought to him by P.T. and the circus troupe. 


End file.
